


Jackie's Cabaret

by Malice_and_Macarons



Series: Rapture Falls [3]
Category: BioShock
Genre: Cannon Typical Violence, Character Death, Fontaine is still a god damn monster somehow, Immoral main characters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lesbian Character, Likely this will go on to include Jack, Loosely follows cannon, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 65,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malice_and_Macarons/pseuds/Malice_and_Macarons
Summary: Once someone wondered what the world would be like if Frank Fontaine wasn't as alone as he was. The result was this wretched little story. Family ought to soften a person, make them less of a monster. Unfortunately, he had to learn it all somewhere.





	1. Family Name

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short, a friend and I wondered what it would be like if Fontaine had even just one person that he gave half of a shit about. This is the result and its not nearly as nice as we would have liked. But this is it. As the story goes on it will loosely follow the events of the Rapture novel. 
> 
> If you know my writing you know the drill: Beware the OC's.

When she was a babe, there was a mother and no father. By the time she was four there was a brother and no mother. 

Five years pass and in that time she’d been a saintly child, a lost brat, a pickpocket, a ballerina and even a courier girl. Each role about as authentic as the last. Each coming and going with ease, dropped once it was no longer serviceable.

Over a decade she’d lived on this earth, years spent leaning how to smile and twirl her hair in just the right way. Cute for the kindly old crones and families on the street, desirable for the scum that only barely kept all their brains in their heads and hands out of their pants.

By fourteen the girl with six hundred different lives picked another.

With a bounce in her step and a grin on her face she took that brother of hers and ran. Pulling him off of the bug infested mattress, throwing aside the scratchy blankets in the dead of night and leaving with what little they owned. Bleary eyed and barely conscious she pulled her brother away from that dreadful place. Leaving behind the third orphanage they’d settled in.

This time the stage she’d found was a quite literal one.

Free boys and girls to work were always in high demand and after laying down her cards correctly she managed to become the bosses favorite novelty. Dance deftly on dirty feet, singing a sweet tune from lying lungs – catching the attention of a performance man. Earn their keep, work their way to the stage and when the time was right, and step into a spotlight. 

Theater appealed to the freshly named Jackie.

Up on the stage she could preform any number of lies, sell them to the crowd who cheered at the deception. Craved it nearly as desperately as a drowning man did air. They buried themselves into her act, sank themselves in her pretty smiles and delicate laughter. Each one happy to accept the sweet lie she provided. Not one felt betrayed when the performance ended, not one chased her with the cries of liar or thief once the curtain was pulled back. Instead they cheered, smiled, paid their dues and left with the promise of a return in the near future. 

And behind the stage, peeking out around the corner a little face with sharp eyes watched her slip out of the lie, becoming Jackie once again. A sweet smile traded for a mirthless grin. 

Dancing off stage Jackie approached that little brat, and in an instant had him gathered up in her arms for an excited hug.

Her brother, only barely a decade old and already so much better than any of the common rabble that gave themselves over to her act. The one good thing she kept close, the one thing that came before the mark, before the act.

The lights of the stage had left her skin prickling, overheated and buzzing. The many eyes keeping the blood in her veins pumping and the smile on her face beaming. Once, twice she spun, pulling her indulgent brother along for the ride until she stopped with a breathless laugh. “Lets see it. How’s my favorite little brother done tonight?” She asked, setting Frank back down on his own two feet.

And oh wasn’t she just the proudest big sister when he produced a collection of wallets and loose jewels. 

Jackie sneered at the sight of the goods. “Well, if they don’t try harder to hold onto it, they can’t have wanted it all that badly.” She snickered, giving her brother’s head a little pat. The two siblings grinned together behind the closed curtains, awaiting the next show. Jackie preformed her part on the stage and as the slack jawed masses watched, her brother was relieving them of their earthly goods.

The theater owner put her on stage and her brother to work out back. But they both learnt one another’s trades quickly enough. Her brother was quite the little actor himself and Jackie delighted in hearing the different voices that could fall off his tongue after some practice.

Oh but there were greater joys than the simple talent of picking pockets and playing a role. While her brother had becoming rather good at the practice, age brought with it new opportunities.

No longer a child, now nineteen years of age things had to change. The stage too small, her brother too tall. Jackie mulled this over backstage, watching as Frank set out preparations for that night’s show. The stage boy part of his act showing in how sturdy his body had become.

Grown so quick that one. Her once cute little brother was already catching up to her in height, how unfortunate. Jackie was going to miss being able to pick him up at her leisure. 

Glancing carelessly towards the glow of the stage, Jackie’s mind began to turn. Her brother would be old enough soon, old enough that when he spoke other men would begin to listen. She would never have quite the voice he did, men didn’t listen to her words any further than their own desires were concerned.

So she twisted them with her movement of her body and the look in her eyes – allowing them to believe they were the ones controlling her until the precise moment the world fell out form under them. It would be the curse and blessing of her gender to be overlooked by all men. They’d think little of her, underestimate how sharp her wit and hatred could be until she used it to slit their throat.

Oh but not her Frankie.

Soon he’d be big enough, speak loudly enough and people would stop to heed his words. Jackie could not have been more pleased by this thought. If a man was to wield a voice, he might as well be one as clever as her brother. 

“Frankie.” She spoke to him in that way he must have recognized. The slight tilt to her words, the mischief she did not attempt to smother when it was just the two of them. “Moonlighting again are we?” He went stiff before seeming to remember precisely who he was talking to, that expression of alarm melting into one of frustration. “Cheeky, thought I wouldn’t notice did we?” 

“What gave me away?” Frank asked, abandoning the box of props he’d been shuffling off to god only knows where. To steal something or to set it up for the stage – Jackie didn’t care. 

Peevishly Jackie leant forward in her seat, no longer lounging about lazily, to point up into her brother’s face. “That smile.” She told him with a wicked one of her own. “You never look that happy unless you’re running another job.”

Knowing he’d been caught Frank shrugged, wholly unrepentant and now openly excited. Without the need to pretend otherwise he was once again free to talk excitedly about his new job. “It was _supposed_ to be a surprise.” He began, tone just shy of accusing but the excited glint in his eyes didn't dampen in the slightest. “A bit of extra scratch.”

Her brother’s excitement was satisfying enough that Jackie didn't actually care much about the job in question. Were it anyone else she would have been furious out of mistrust, but her little brother did not fall into the same category as everyone else. Family came first every time.

So she listened with a steady smile as Frankie explained this new game of his. Not nearly as fun as her own but he seemed to prefer playing the illegal gambling scene far more than the stage. He mapped out the new system, the new last name he was working under and the fake age he’d been giving out. Jackie listened, feigning most of her interest in the subject itself. He could have talked for hours about Frank _Wiston’s_ interstate bookmaking scheme and she would have listened without caring about the subject in the slightest.

She worked people in a different way to her brother. He played more keenly on business, greed and the folly of clever men. Jackie preferred her marks to be almost purely emotional creatures. But she had to admit, her little brother did drag in quite the impressive wage at the end of the day.

Certainly more than pickpocketed goods. 

“Frankie.” She called just before her brother vanished for what she guessed would be the rest of the night. Pausing Frank turned back to glance at his sister and was greeted with the usual smile. “Keep your wits about you, kiddo.” 

Her brother’s answering grin was a near match for her own. “Not much of a kid anymore.” He replied before stepping out of the theater and leaving his older sister to scoff.

“Not a kid he says.” She mused, expression softening slightly now that Frank was gone. “Idiot, don’t he know little brothers are always kids?” 

Beyond the curtain the crowd was getting restless and Jackie knew it was about time she got up and remedied the situation. What she saw on the stage that night was another young girl, dancing and smiling in that saintly way to the audience. Jackie waited and watched as the girl did her bit and then took a bow under the praise of every idiot in the place. She worked them beautifully. 

Jackie stayed behind the curtain as the little angel pranced off stage, pausing for just a moment to glance up at Jackie. The kid looked like she was only fourteen years old.

Then she sneered and what could Jackie do but grin right back.

 

…  
…

 

“Got yourself in too deep have we, kiddo?” 

There was genuine anger behind her brother’s voice when he snapped back at Jackie. “Just help me get these fucking papers forged!”

“Gorland is it now? Christ, little brother, couldn’t you have picked a less horrendous name?” 

Jackie saw her brother’s shoulders sink; shaking with what she guessed was some horrible concoction of terror, rage and frustration. He’d never had a job go pear-shaped quite like this before.

It was a good lesson for him to learn, although she would have preferred he not learn it on his twenty first birthday.

Her brother did not deal with failure well.

Clapping Frankie on the back, his big sister offered him the usual beaming grin. “Schmucks ain’t going to know what hit them, kid.”

Still enraged by his own failure, Frank took a few moments longer to calm enough to register the small level of support he was shown. He’d always get it from his sister, a rare constant among a life lived a fluidly as a river. Names would come and go, backstories built and dismantled – but his sister was always there with a bolstering word when it was needed. 

Thinking for a couple of seconds, Frank recalled a fellow he’d met by chance earlier that year. A gambler who just so happened to own a bit of land and have an absolutely terrible run of luck. He might just be in need of a loan, Harv, wasn’t it?

“Say, sis.” Frank began slowly, a steady confidence returning to his voice. “Ever wanted to own a bar?” He asked and she grinned. 

By the end of the night Frankie Wiston was gone, in his place was Frank Gorland and that was that.

 

…  
…

 

It was all perfectly legal.

Jackie sat back and watched as her brother made the pitch. Played the right voice in just the right way, smiled when appropriate, and offered a sympathetic hand where believable.

Before long Harv Merton was balling something fierce and signing a loan with "Hudson Loans". He shook Frankie’s hand with a grateful smile and off he went.

Slinking up behind her brother, Jackie curled over his shoulder to look down at the mockery of a loan agreement in his hands. “Oh brother, I almost feel bad for the poor soul.” She crooned, eyeing the false signature her brother had whipped up for this occasion. Far too pretty to actually belong to Frank. 

Chuckling Frank glanced back at his sister with a faintly admonishing look. “No you don’t.” He said simply and Jackie didn’t even attempt to defend the lie, merely shrugging with a sly smile. “Before the month is out The Clanger belongs to us.” 

Jackie corrected him without hesitation. “To you.”

“Now what kind of brother would I be if I didn’t share?” 

“The regular kind.”

“Ain’t never been one for ‘regular’.” Then as if to solidify the thought Frank asked. “What type of music do you reckon, sis?” 

True to his word the bar passed hands a month later as a decidedly less thankful Harv Merton was forced to hand over the keys. His debt hadn’t been paid and the interest was more than enough for the bar alone. 

This particular role suited both siblings a little too well. At the bar Frank spent his time cleaning cups and listening to the drunken babble of foolish gamblers that didn’t pay attention to the man filling their glasses. As much as he disliked the grunt work, there was nothing Frankie liked more than being able to listen as people unwittingly gave him their secrets. 

While Frank indulged himself with the bets and rigged matches, Jackie was left to her own devices. 

The bar was a perfect place she thought; on a quiet night she got to fill cups and make chatter with anyone that came on by. But what was the most fun for Jackie were the energetic nights, the ones were the bar was packed and the screams for entertainment grew so thunderous she was sure they’d returned to the theater. On nights like that Jackie got up, demanded the spotlight again and sang until her voice was raw. 

The saintly songs of an angel faced girly replaced with raucous swell of cabaret music. Words of sweet love and virginal gals traded for debauchery and things that would send nuns rushing for their confessionals should the tainted words so much as cross their mind. 

It was messy, feverish and likely the most energy half these poor saps had seen and felt in the better half of their lives. Saturday nights spent making a mess of the bar, getting all kinds of people calling out, signing with voices too rough and unpolished to be used for such a thing. Each accepted with the burn of straight alcohol and a building overflowing with hearts breaking, broken and just waiting to break. 

This was the trade off Jackie decided once the doors closed on another night and she collapsed boneless on the lounge upstairs where she and her brother now slept. Her dress a mess, hair even worse but her face still alight with the glee of a night well spent. She was far beyond buzzed, a bottle of vodka half empty and still clutched in her hand as she grinned hazily up at the ceiling and its flickering light. 

Jackie’s eyes flicked to the side as the cushions of the lounge dipped down under the weight of her brother. As he sat, pulling his tie loose with a weary sigh, looking every bit the exhausted worker, Jackie crawled back upright and gestured for him to lay down. For a moment Frank regarded her skeptically and Jackie laughed, lifting her bottle of alcohol as a kind of peace offering. Frank gladly accepted, laying himself down with head in his sister’s lap. 

Handing over the drink Jackie fell back limp against the back of the lounge, fingers tangling in her brother’s blonde hair gently tugging here and there. “Looking a little thin there brother.” She teased, earning herself a faintly annoyed grunt. 

“Don’t ruin this, sis…” Frank groused, peering past the neck of the bottle at his sister. 

As a second peace offering Jackie relented and when she opened her mouth next something kinder came out. Just because she knew how tired her brother was and how much he enjoyed the odd moment of tenderness. If she recalled correctly he liked this particular song.

“ _Why do I just do as you say_?” Jackie began to sing more softly, voice worn ragged from a night of joyous screaming. “ _Why must I just give you your way_?”

“Didn’t know you could still sing like that.” Frank teased before taking a gulp of the burning liquid, cringing a bit as it ran down his throat. “Thought it was nothing but piss and vinegar in there now.” 

“Hush now.” Jackie chided gently. 

A night of partying and dancing sapping the fight from her bones, leaving behind a gentle touch and quiet voice. Quiet down Frank did, listening to his sister drawl the familiar song, one she didn’t give to the bar crowd anymore. It’d be a waste to sing sweetly for them.

“ _Some others I've seen might never be mean. Might never be cross or try to be boss, but they wouldn't do. For nobody else gave me a thrill.”_

Jackie was no lyricist. She sung the works of others, played the parts of other’s desires. She didn’t create things like her brother did, didn’t make new people from thin air and no script to follow. But as she sang those words and gave Frank a playful nudge she very nearly left the script. Nearly altered the words she sang so they fit her brother more perfectly.

_“With all your faults, I love you still.”_

Maybe one day she would, but for tonight she sang the usual words and distantly dreamed for the lyrics she might someday trade them for.

 _“It had to be you, wonderful you, it had to be you_ ” 

Before long the fatigue was catching up with them both. Jackie’s singing became softer with every word but she continued to hum even after the final verse had been sung. Looking down at her little brother who was not quite so little anymore. Frank was the first to fall into sleep, the bottle slipping out of his fingers as his exhaustion took the last of his consciousness and Jackie was awake only long enough to chuckle quietly at the sight. 

For Jackie this would have been just fine. As a child she dreamt big, imagined all the wealth in the world, power and respect. She imagined people dropping to their knees at her feet, begging she grace them with so much as a glance. She imagined being in a place where she was safe, adored, never hungry, never cold and never scorned. 

But those childish whims had faded over the years. Those desires changed as Frank grew older. 

Now she dreamt of the years passing, still never cold or for want of food, but less frivolous. A roof over their heads, a ready supply of entertainment and one another for company…that would have been enough for the rest of her days.

Oh, but Jackie knew better. That would never be enough for her little Frankie. 

She could be content being with just him, but he still dreamed large. Still looked to the sky with eyes that said he wanted more and Jackie would gladly give it all to him. If he wanted to take the world, she’d not stop trying until he had it.

“Family first, kid.” She mumbled the familiar phrase before letting sleep come up to claim her next. In the morning they’d both be incredibly hung over and likely in foul moods – but for that moment the world was nothing other than wonderful.

 


	2. Black Diamond Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look I went skiing and I just had to put a trail reference in the title kay? Kay.

Another payday had come in.

Jackie had thought it was pretty damn entertaining that they had gangsters coming into the bar now days. She'd marveled at just talking to them, although found her amusement with the title dwindled quickly when they laid eyes on her chest and seemed to forget they were supposed to be impressive.

When they spoke to Frank they were all cool and collected – what Jackie expected of infamous men. But turn their eyes on her and watch them become goo.

She left the conversation bitter and disappointed only to later be teased by Frankie for it. Jackie found herself a mere second away from exclaiming 'men!' in exasperation but then Frank had said something more interesting and her irritation gave way to curiosity.

"Rigged boxing matches now?" Jackie mused thinking about that for all of two seconds before grinning. "Well let's see it. How's my favorite little brother done tonight?"

With a grin to rival her own Frank produced what could only be referred to as a  _shit tone_  of cash.

Laughing gleefully Jackie hooked an arm around Frank's shoulders. "That's my boy!" She crowed and as a sort of special reward for his efforts Jackie pulled out all of her drink mixing skills to get to work stealing Frank's sobriety from him. He let it slip away without a fuss; Jackie didn't mix drinks all that often so it was a welcome treat.

One that was interrupted by some stiff in a suit.

"We're closed." Frank barked, not bothering to put on any charm for the intruder. "Door's back the way you came."

Jackie had been content to wait for the hick to get a clue then continue the night with her brother but then she noticed the intruder just so happened to have a badge. Not the kind that said he was in charge of checking if they had minors loitering around, more the type that had nearly busted Frank's operation back at the bookmaking gig.

Federal agents…great.

Frank noticed this at the exact same time his sister had and then too recognized the man himself as one of the men that had pried into his business personally. Changing his tune slightly Frank turned to his sister. "Jackie, head upstairs." He instructed, tone adopting a note of concern that he surely did not mean.

The agent likely thought he was simply playing the part of the protective brother but Jackie caught Frank's gaze and got the message. With a slight nod she parted from the bar and scurried off, playing her own part of the nervous, naïve sister.

As she head up the steps she heard Frank saying he didn't want to scare his sister with whatever this guy wanted and scoffed.

The moment she was out of sight Jackie went for the guns.

They didn't like making a mess. Blood was incredibly hard to scrub clean and they didn't need the heat, but if push came to shove neither of them would shy away from what needed to be done. While she was free of the agent's prying eyes Jackie made a quick loop of the upstairs room, looking for anything damming. Besides the large sums of money they had tucked away and a few questionable legal documents they were in the clear.

It was amazing honestly, how clean they'd managed to run their operation for all this time.

Jackie waited, keeping an ear out for the signal that she and Frank agreed on for situations like this. But no sound beyond muffled voices reached her and then after some time had passed, the sound of the front door being shut and locked. Frank was up the stairs before Jackie even set the shotgun down, smiling with that manic glint shinning in his eyes.

"You ain't ever going to guess what a little stupid birdy just told me."

And all Jackie could think was – here we go again. Better start looking for document forgers.

A fortnight passed and Jackie was a little skeptical with the information Frank had scrounged together.

The FBI agent had been wrong to threaten Frank, thinking that he was gathering information for him rather than his own needs. The poor fool had just pointed Frank in the right direction and he was left with barely scraps while the simple crooked bar owner he thought he'd strong armed into helping him was following what could only be thought of as a bread crumb trail made of gold.

Jackie was a firm believer in 'all things that sparkle' ideology but in this case, she was rather dubious of this particular trail.

"So you followed some drunken woman's sob story to the docks, found some rich pricks ship – the Olympian or whatever – scared some sailors," She didn't say how amusing it was that Frank's choice of threat had been to pretend he was the same federal agent that had first set them on this path. "and you find out about…what? Atlantis?"

"Rapture."

He wasn't hearing her cynical tone at all. Too buzzed with what he was beginning to refer to as 'the con of a lifetime'. He'd gone so far as to drag Reggie back into the picture – bless the man's stupid little heart. Jackie was always happy to see the muscle head, thinking him to be the most endearing kind of moron, one with manners and an inbuilt chauvinism that demanded he constantly refer to her like she was his mother.

But if Reggie was back on the payroll, that meant Frank was really pulling out all the stops for what sounded like a fantasy.

"Sis, Andrew Ryan is building a city under the bleeding ocean." Frank tried again to induce the same excitement in his sister that had him running on fumes for the past week. "And it's full of nothing but pompous, artistic, fat cats. You can't tell me a place like that ain't the most perfect breeding ground for suckers you've ever heard of."

Averse to ever popping her brother's proverbial bubble, Jackie took a few minutes to mull it over.

It was true she hadn't seen Frank this passionate about anything in a good long while. It was almost like his moonlighting days all over again; she hadn't seen that smile in a few years. Crazy as it sounded, Jackie wanted this underwater wonderland to be real. Just to see her brother's delight realized.

With a sigh Jackie relented and it was almost worth it just to see Frank's eyes light up. "So what's the plan?"

"I don't suppose you remember out old friend Harv Merton?" There was that predatory glint to her brother's eyes that had Jackie interested. "We'll need to have a little chat with the poor old boy."

Ah, now she understood the need for Reggie. That extra muscle might just come in handy if things were to get rough. Jackie was not the biggest fan of getting blood on their records, but if they ended up at the bottom of the ocean who cared what the method was? Either they died and ended up as fish food or Frank's utopian city existed and they had a whole new playground at their fingertips.

One way or another the ocean would wash it all away.

…

…

"Christ Frank,  _really_?" Jackie stressed, scowling at the still full suitcase.The fish were beginning to absolutely reek – an achievement considering the state of the rest of the filthy ship. "Always gotta go that extra mile don't ya?"

"Now whatever do you mean?" Frank replied, a wolfish grin on his face.

"Don't be cute." His sister snapped whirling on him, expression still twisted into one of frustration. "Ya couldn't have just put a bullet in the poor blighter's head. Oh no, no, not  _my_  brother. My brother had to be a  _showman_." And still Frank was grinning, leaning back in his seat as though he was without a care in the world while listening to his sister's angry ravings.

Granted his methods might have been a _touch_ overzealous but the job was done wasn't it? 

The clothes on his back still felt a little bit unnatural.

As though they'd been made for the original Fontaine and did not quite sit right on their new owner's shoulders. It would be little trouble to overcome that feeling given a bit more time. Frank hadn't stolen an identity before. Made plenty of his own – but stealing one? This was a whole new ballgame and admittedly he was excited by the prospects of it.

"Went off without a hitch." Frank reasoned with a shrug. "Can't let a man have a little fun, can ya?"

It was not that he did not understand his sister's exasperation, but what was the point in playing the game if he didn't make a little time to savour each small victory. The expression on the old captains face when he realised he'd been had was a priceless commodity.

"You're having an awful lot of fun." Jackie noted, clearly not nearly as enthusiastic about this endeavour as he was. That or she was still sour over the little fib Frank had fed the old man about her invented best friend being their little snitch.

He was yet to decide if it was the addition of her in his lies without a bit of warning that irked her, or the conjuring of an imaginary friend.

Regardless her mood was remaining fairly stormy where she normally would have at least cracked a smile at the thought of his showmanship. Jackie always had loved a bit of jeering before the job ended.

His focus may have been a little bit single-minded those past few days. Although Jackie was clearly pleased to have Reggie hanging around again, his sister might just need a little bit of incentive herself.

For him it was enough just to know that with every step he took he was that little bit closer to getting under Ryan's nose and stealing everything right out from under him. But Jackie never had shared his desire to take everything the tycoon owned, never really cared much for that massive scale con. But she indulged him all the same and never failed to assist where need be, so it would be only right to give her a little motivator in return.

"You always wanted to be a ship captain didn't ya?" He offered, watching with a smirk as slowly his sister's interest was grabbed.

Begrudgingly Jackie turned back towards him. Her irritation was familiar to him, the sort that gave him the chance to sell his case before Jackie passed further judgment. "You're the one that wanted to be a captain, brother." She reminded him stonily and Frank had to admit that there was a particular novelty to being the master of a ship.

"True." He allowed, confident that he had just the thing to tide her over. "But I know you love the hats." She'd always lit up whenever Frankie would steal one from the prop box backstage at the theatre; he hoped the affection carried through the years.

Of course there was no way in hell that Fontaine actually owned one of those ridiculous pirate hats that Jackie had enjoyed. But there was certainly no law against getting her own while this con was playing out.

Jackie's arms uncrossed and there was a fascination gleaming behind her eyes. Just like that Frank knew he had her. Now all he had to do was find her that hat and they'd be square. "Don't let anyone say I never do anything nice for you, sister."

Another glance at the disgusting suitcase of fish and Jackie sneered. "And no one is going to say I don't let you get away with murder."

…  
…

1948, the year they said goodbye to the surface.

"This Ryan man sounds the right fool." Jackie commented dryly as she stood by her brother's side at the docks, awaiting what would hopefully be an escort.

That or someone to try and put a bullet in Frank's head.

If that was to be the case they had more than enough men ready to fight. Although honestly Jackie would have felt perfectly safe if it was only Reggie there with them. She would have preferred just Reggie to the addition of her brother's new first mate.

This Peach guy gave her all the wrong vibes.

That may have been a kettle calling out a pot, but Jackie knew nasty men. Peach fit the bill and for as terrible as she and her brother might be – that did not mean she was without some level of moral standard.

Well that and Peach just struck her as the lecherous type, and boring to boot. She was still unsure which of these traits was more of an offense.

"Maybe." Frank Fontaine, as he was now known– the name stripped from a corpse at the bottom of the ocean – replied. "But he's the man that extended us an invitation into his  _lovely_  city."

 _After ample ass kissing_ , Jackie thought bitterly. But her brother's good mood couldn't be trodden on and she had to admit he'd done pretty damn well to get them to this point.

A city…under the fucking ocean. Outstanding.

"It's still ridiculous if you ask me. At best this place has got to be a wreck, some underwater bathtub." If it weren't built like one then it would become a mass grave before long. Water found its way into everything given enough time, if this city sprung a leak they were all as good as drowned.

Jackie liked to think of herself as a practical person. Perhaps not reasonable and certainly not equitable – but practical nonetheless.

So when an absurd looking brass bubble came bursting out of the water to collect them her doubts only hardened in their resolve.

Lingering back she watched as Fontaine made small talk with the man sent to get them - Sullivan if she was hearing the painfully pleasant exchange correctly. Reggie and the boys were loading up the supplies to start Frank's fishing company that would be little more than a front of the real meat of the operation.

It was something of a package deal. If Fontaine went they all went and Jackie was under the distinct impression that had even a single one of them refused to go there would have been bullets exchanged. Apparently secrecy was of the upmost importance to this little underwater colony. As it were, not a soul among them wanted to stay topside. They were all a little bit star struck with the mere idea of Rapture, even Jackie had to admit that behind her cynicism there was a quiet spark of excitement. Just wondering what it might be down there.

Eventually the boys were clambering in, equal parts nervous and excited for this little adventure they were embarking on, until only herself, Fontaine and Sullivan remained on the ship.

Finally her brother turned back to face her. "Come on." He called, still wearing that beaming smile. Holding out his hand, Frank waited until Jackie gathered the last of her nerves and stepped forward, placing her hand in his.

God, he had grown up so quickly. Once upon a time his hand had been small in hers, now his fingers effortlessly encased her palm making her feel like a damn child. But she appreciated his small attempt to ease her nerves – more than she god damn deserved surely.

There was a time where she'd done something like this herself.

Pulled a bleary eyed child from his orphanage bed in the dead of night to whisk him off to some marginally better place. He'd gone with her then with minimal complaint, trusted his sister to do what was right by family. Jackie supposed she could do the same for him now.

"All will be well, ma'am." Sullivan said aiming for a tone of kindly civility. Although he missed the mark just a bit and ended up just baring scraping in as curt. "Master Ryan is looking forward to seeing what your crew here is able to accomplish. Rapture is the city for all who make the most of it."

That small attempt at comfort given and Jackie was stepping into the bathysphere. Sullivan was about as aware of her brother's true talents and intentions as Ryan was. Make the most the city he'd said, oh Fontaine would. Jackie might as well start placing bets on how quickly the city would fall into his hands.

Frank did so love bets.

And just like that the sea swallowed up the sky above and they dropped down. So far down. To a place where sunlight would never penetrate and fresh air would be impossible to come by. Frank looked towards Rapture and all Jackie could do was stare upwards.

But as the world grew dark around them with every minute they traveled, the words of Andrew Ryan himself buzzing in their ears, there was light again. Jackie was stunned.

Rapture shone like a hidden jewel amongst the cavernous underwater landscape. It glowed and stretched upwards, more grand than any city on the land, sparkling more beautifully than anything she'd ever seen.

"Full of suckers you said?" She breathed, awed by the sheer scale of the place. Honestly it was a touch ludicrous, the whole city reeked of self-indulgence and vanity. But it was a breath taking sight.

"Every single one of them." Her brother confirmed and judging by the distant awe in his voice he was as enraptured by the city as she was.

Perhaps for him it was the thought of every arrogant, self assured, narcissistic sap that it housed and how easily he'd be able to have them turning out their pockets to him. But for Jackie she was simply looking at the city itself. The light cutting through the oppressive darkness of the ocean floor like a well-sharpened knife. It's massive structures glittering like diamonds.

That old thought returned to her. ' _All things that sparkle…_ '

With a quiet breath of disbelief Jackie chuckled, wrapping her head around the sight ahead of her. "I take it back, Frank." She mused quietly, able to feel her brother's eyes on her. It wasn't every day she relented in such a way. "This is quite the lovely city Mr. Ryan whipped up."

Glancing up to catch her brother's gaze, Jackie sneered. "And I reckon you could do it one better."

Her brother's smile was vicious and Jackie very nearly pitied the poor fool that had invited Fontaine into his city, even as the man's voice spoke of the weak yielding to the strong. Every word a mockery of what Frank would do to Rapture, ever word an invitation to steal it right out from under Ryan.

"… _and with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well._ " The automated voice urged and Jackie scoffed.

They never had been the type of people to share things outside the family.

…

…

"Easy with that Reggie! You great oaf, can't you just be  _careful_!" Peach was harping on Reggie again.

He's that sort, one of the 'hard workers' that complains about all the other hard workers. Clambers for Fontaine's approval; gleeful and self-righteous in spite of the greedy way he looks upon her brother.

'One of us' he thinks and then in the same breath dismisses every person Fontaine hired along with him. Thought himself the grandest of the fleas that Peach did.

"Not worth the money to keep you, I swear." He went on.

For all the things Reggie may just deserve, Peach's bitching was not among them. Reggie might have been a right moron with more bite than brain to bark, but he was also perhaps one of the gentlest souls Jackie had ever tolerated for more than five minutes in any one sitting.

A real mother's boy with a frankly unholy level of loyalty to the pair of them. Loyalty that Peach Wilkins couldn't muster up in even a fraction of Reggie's ferocity. Reggie had more honour in his little toe than Peach had in his whole body.

Which was precisely why the man's incessant nagging and degrading of the other workers began to crawl on Jackie's nerves.

She was no mother hen, no patron saint there to defend the workingmen from their overseers. Honestly Jackie had kicked down her fair share of good men just to bring a smile to her own face. But on this day as she watched Reggie and Wilkin's boys unload the first wave of cargo for their fishing operation, Jackie began to disapprove of Peach's nagging.

No more than three hours earlier she had seen her brother off. Smiling as she likened him to the ten year old boy that had left with an excited bounce in his step the first time he went to play a con – unable to resist making the comparison in her own head. It was the curse of any guardian watching the little one they raised growing older, remnants of the child they'd been echoed in the adult they became.

Off he went to meet with their new lord and master, Ryan.

Fontaine had scoffed and reminded her that Ryan advocated freedom and she'd do well not to talk too foul of him while they were getting situated. There'd be time to throw nasty words and plenty more than that in due time – that time was not when Ryan could still evict them with a word.

Patience her brother said and Jackie heeded him because for all her gifts – he was the one that played this scene best.

But this left her with the boys. Left her to listen to Peach increasingly irksome string of berating remarks of their work. Two hours of this she tolerated, two hours she bit her tongue and watched Peach do barely a thing while snarling at the workers as they saw to all the heavy lifting. On the third hour Jackie decided she might as well stop keeping her peace, seeing as Peach clearly had no such inclination to bite his own tongue.

"Reg." Jackie's deceptively gently croon cut across Peach's howling words. "Oh sweet thing, is old Peach giving you a rough time? When you've been working so hard, don't seem fair do it?" Those words were spoken with a purposeful glance in Wilkin's direction, sharp as a knife and a stark contrast to her honey sweet voice.

Where he stood, Wilkin's stiffened and that subtle shift in posture was nearly enough to satisfy Jackie as she glided over to Reggie's side, fingers dancing across his scarred forearm. Not for the first time she was amused by how sturdy the hulking man's muscles were, they certainly knew how to pick them.

"Nuthin' I can't handle, ma'am." Reggie responded dutifully and wasn't that just the most charming thing the old knucklehead had ever said?

He smiled dumbly in her direction and Jackie found this just as endearing because his eyes were on her face, not her breasts. That was a good boy.

Humming thoughtfully Jackie slid away from Reggie and back in Peach's direction. The tense man broke from his statuesque state to take an uncertain step back. Previously airy footsteps turned to a near predatory stalk as Jackie passed by the gulping man, pausing only long enough to ponder aloud. "If you say so Reg. I'd hate to have to do something about Peach's treatment of you fine young lads."

Then just to see the man nearly leap out of his skin, Jackie brushed over the clammy skin of the back of his neck with the nails of her fingers. "It would be such a darn shame."

Peach might be a boor of a man, but he was not thick enough to miss a blatant threat. He remained stonily silent as the woman left him in her wake, waving lazily over her shoulder at the remaining men that had paused to watch the show. All these years and she still adored the spotlight of a part well played, it just so happened this audience was far more invested in her performance than the usual lot.

"You boys behave while I'm gone, won't you?" Jackie called to the men before stepping away from the fisheries import area and made for the little office that Frank had set up to meet them.

Under his breath Peach was brave enough to utter a quiet curse with her name attached. Bold enough to whisper, coward enough to try and keep it to himself. "Fucking crazy broads." He groused bitterly. "Thinks she's tough shit because she's the bosses bitch." Jackie nearly turned back to teach ol' Peach a thing or two about crazy broads, but instead calmed herself enough to let the insult wash over her.

Besides if she really broke that insult down, it was little more than a statement of fact. She was indeed female and she might just be crazy. It was the other implications of his cursing that had Jackie seeing red for a moment.

Unfortunately if she kicked up too much of a fuss with Wilkin's so early Frank was going to be missing a few men that he'd been rather pleased to have gotten in the first place. Furthermore, Jackie could wait. Patience was not her particular virtue, but a girl could appreciate the anticipation of retribution well earned.

So Peach got to keep to his mutterings and Jackie began to drive a nice little wedge between him and his men.

They were loyal to Wilkins and by extension her brother. Loyalty built from greed, respect and no small amount of fear. Jackie thought this all well and good but she thought loyalty of a different kind could be better suited to her needs.

It was there in the way Reggie had smiled and called her "ma'am". Devotion through affection might just last where greed died out. Besides, if grouchy old Peach pushed his men too hard and she was there to offer up a pleasant smile and compassionate word, soon there'd be animosity brewing between the workers and their proprietor.

Holding to that thought Jackie rekindled her good mood, shutting the office door behind her with a little click.

Their base of operations for the time being was incredibly small but Fontaine was already talking of expansion. The fisheries would grow quickly enough, a little more quickly than they ought to when he started bringing in the real goods. The smugglers were playing it safe under the original owner, but her brother had bigger ambitions than some fish and the occasional shipment of alcohol.

Flicking on the dingy little light the office provided Jackie let out a hefty sigh, looking over the unloaded boxes. Half the room was unpacked boxes, half of that was documents and at least half of those were forged. The rest of the boxes consisted of weapons, tools and a few other trade goods. When it boiled down to personal belongings, there was really only what they'd brought in their own bags. Jackie knew herself to be an extraordinarily material driven person, but for a woman that was so infatuated with all material things– she had an alarmingly limited amount of personal belongings.

Clothes were mostly abandoned topside, allowing only for a few spare changes to be brought down. Everything else would be bought within Rapture, so as not to offend the sensibilities of the residents. Apparently high fashion in Rapture was dictated very carefully and clothes from the surface mostly scorned. Barely a week into this city and Jackie was already catching people murmuring designer names. Apparently there was something of a monopoly forming over clothing design in Rapture. It seemed the citizens had wasted no time digging into the gossip coming out of the art industry.

Were it not for the rather frivolous promise of new clothes Jackie might have kicked up more of a fuss about leaving behind most of her closet. But her brother had always known just how to play her for a right fool when it came to material items.

No matter how much she liked the one she already had, Jackie would always bite for the one she  _didn't_  have.

She would never doubt Frank's skill in talking his way into whatever he wanted. Although she probably ought to at least try not to let it work on her every damn time. "Little shit." Jackie muttered under her breath, with a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Besides their limited clothes, Jackie hadn't much else to bring. There'd be ample supplies of booze, cigars and a few heavier pleasures in Rapture, so no need to smuggle any of their own. What few pieces of jewelry Jackie did bring were being worn and even then she felt the need to remove them fairly quickly.

Owning gorgeous things was wonderful, but she had little desire to wear them. Perhaps that was counterproductive of her; Frank had pointed it out in the past that jewelry only truly became stunning when on her person. Flattering maybe, and just like her brother to say, but ultimately pointless.

Jackie loved beautiful things, she loved being beautiful herself – but she harbour no desires to make herself just the same as those jewels. A pretty thing to be owned and worn on someone's arm.

Even the simple weight of a necklace around her neck felt as heavy as though it were a real chain under the scrutiny of other's eyes. So jewelry was collected and adored but not worn unless the goal was to shine, to steal someone's eye for a specific purpose.

Her brother never really understood this habit of hers. Likely thinking it was an effort to make herself less appealing – something he would never appreciate himself. She would not be the one to sit down and explain such trivial things to him.

But for now the chain still hung around her throat, little crystals from her ears and tight rings around her fingers. Rapture was a new playground, a new place to leave impressions and capture people's eyes. So for the time being, Jackie ignored the uncomfortable weight of the jewels and just smiled whenever meeting a new person. Dazzling those she could and mocking those she could not. Making plans for both.

Rapture was not nearly as decrepit or leaky as she'd expected. Instead it was actually a dryer place than half the places they'd dwelled in topside. She could not decide if this was impressive for the underwater city or simply a poor reflection of the surface. Either way, things worked just a little different in Rapture.

She'd been right to think that the city was dripping with self-satisfaction and arrogance. It was on the face of every single person she'd seen thus far. Dressed to the highest fashion, carrying themselves around as though their every step was some great service to the earth. This may have been why these… _audio diaries_  were so popular.

What better than to validate a bunch of bored oligarchs than to hear their own voices and think they were saying something worth listening to?

The bulky thing sat heavy on the office desk. Scowling Jackie pulled it into her hands, holding up the mechanical box to the light as if she might be better able to see the exact thing about it that was so appealing. But no matter what angle she observed the thing at – it was just as obnoxious as the first.

Dropping it back down with a scoff Jackie turned away, content to pick about the rest of the office. Perhaps she'd being to set things up for real. Frank wouldn't like that much, determined to get into a larger base of operation before they really had the chance to settle into this one. But as always Jackie let her brother be the visionary while she remained practical. They'd need to unpack at least a little bit.

Jackie had taken no more than a step when a horrendous sound tore out of the box she'd let fall back to the table. It coiled something inside of itself tight with a high wail before beginning to roll and no doubt recording just long enough to hear Jackie curse lowly. "How do I turn this damn thing-…oh christ." She muttered angrily, fingers plucking the thing back up off the desk to look for a way to stop it.

It didn't' have the most elaborate design, and Jackie had little trouble figuring it out once she calmed from the initial surprise of the impromptu recording. Except…Jackie didn't immediately turn it off. Instead she hesitated, finger hovering over the button to end its recording.

"Must be a loon." She cursed herself before sitting down with the diary in hand, staring at it with distaste. "So this is what the greatest minds in the world do for fun is it?" Pondering aloud, Jackie felt a little thrill knowing her voice would be kept inside this queer little device. Then immediately felt foolish for finding that to be amusing in the first place.

But still she spoke. "Suppose they don't got much else do they? Spend all day and night waltzing around under the sea thinking they're the head honcho. Call me a pessimist if ya like, but hell…least I know when you're at the bottom of the ocean you sure as hell ain't walking on water. You're drowning."

Jackie's thumb brushed the stop button but then she reconsidered and with an impish grin added. "Still, gotta hand it to the saps – they make one hell of a splash as they go."

Clicking off the diary Jackie leant back in the office chair, eyeing the device with a renewed affection. It was a novelty, one she hadn't had on the surface and while it still curled unpleasantly in her gut knowing most of these things would be used to sing one's own praises into the void – that didn't mean she couldn't have a bit 'o fun with her own.

There was something calming about being able to talk normally as well. No slight lilt to her words, no need to poise herself or conduct herself carefully. Able to indulge in every little bad habit, coarse tone and colloquialism she liked. That was…nice.

Grudgingly Jackie considered using it more frequently – just a way to remember what her real voice sounded like before the Rapture performance swallowed it up.

"Writing in your diary were you, sis?"

About time he turned up, how long could one man spend jawing with her little brother?

Jackie snorted at the familiar drawl of her brother's voice. He'd tweaked it just a bit since they left the surface, heavier, sharper and when need be – just a touch more charming than he truly was.

Craning her spine back Jackie peered at her brother, the view flipped on its head from the angle she watched him at.

In the doorway Frank stood, looking caught between amusement with his sister's antics and holding onto whatever foul mood he'd come in with. The result a borderline unimpressed stare. Jackie had a guess as to why he'd be in such a rotten state when returning to the office. "Mr. Ryan not the most amicable man you've ever met, huh?" She suggested and could practically feel the answer in Frank's resulting snarl of frustration.

Shutting the door with more force than was strictly necessary, Frank stalked into the office, pulling at his tie and coat with the same excessive level of force. All the while being perfectly aware of his sister's eyes following him with a notable lack of sympathy. If anything she was goading him into further displays of anger with her silent smug stare.

He knew that look. Had seen it countless times. "You ain't right." He snapped in response to the unspoken declaration dancing in her eyes. "Ryan's no half-wit, but the geezer sure as hell thinks we're a bunch of spooks, thinks our boys are triggermen. Spent the last two hours needling me about my intentions for the business, about who I talked to topside, what I'm bringing in to his city." There was a pause in Frank's ranting and Jackie frowned, a bit unsettled by the quiet chuckle of disbelief he produced.

"Saw the old bastard's fingers twitch for his gun at one point back there. Thought for sure he…"

Jackie was out of the office chair in record time.

The cheap wood creaking in protest as she smoothly slipped off its surface. Her hands were at her brother's shoulders an instant later, guiding him back into the seat she'd just abandoned. Frank went without complaint, falling into the offered seat at Jackie's behest.

Her brother was hardly a skittish man, certainly not weak stomached. He'd dished out some of the most horrendous things a man could muster, taken almost as bad himself – but this did nothing to ease Jackie's instinctual reaction to his quiet words. Frank might think of a bullet as a set back in business, but for Jackie a bullet could spell the end of her only good thing. The only thing she might have cared about more than herself.

Fontaine might posture himself as though nothing could scratch his hide but her Frankie was not invincible.

"Don't  _mother_  me, Jackie." Frank spat irritably in her direction only to be completely ignored. A moment later whatever pride driven complaints he had were wiped away as her hands settled on his shoulders once again. For all his bellyaching, Frank never had turned away the offer of a massage from his sister.

Nearly snarling herself when she felt knots that had not been in her brother's muscles earlier that week, Jackie set to work remedying the situation. That would not do. The first knot was stubborn enough that when she pressed the pads of her thumbs against it, Frank let out a little hiss of discomfort. Only a week and he'd wound himself up this tightly? Worse still, was this a result of his visit to Ryan's abode?

Taking the time to properly work out the kinks Jackie distracted her brother with idle conversation. "Clearly he didn't shoot you, what clever little thing did you say to avoid that, hm?"

"What goes on in that crackpot's head is anyone's guess." Now that didn't sound like her brother, whom seemed so positive he knew everything. "He's suspicious, that's for sure. Don't like outsiders. But he's  _clever_ , Jackie." Frank muttered begrudgingly. "Far more than we gave him credit for."

"I called him a fool not a week ago." She reminded offhandedly and Frank laughed. The sound less tightly wound than the last and a welcome relief.

Easing off, Jackie's fingers became less focused on their mission and instead kneaded into her brother's shoulders. Just urging him to relax now that he was out of the game, she'd taught him never to drop the act unless he was positive he was safe and alone. They needed to establish this as that place, because every other inch of Rapture was not.

The change was well received and as her brother spoke he seemed unaware of how he turned lax against the back of the chair. "He's sharp." Frank admitted once again, only marginally less bitter in the acknowledgment this time around. "Didn't trust me as far as his spindly arms could toss me. But he's got one limitation, a white underbelly he ain't even trying to hide."

"And just what might that be?"

Tilting his head up Frank tossed his sister one of those knowing smirks. "He thinks his 'Great Chain' is infallible."

Smiling faintly Jackie's fingers stilled on her brother's shoulders as she bent over to peer directly down into her brother's face. "And what do we say about men who know it all and broads who have seen it all?"

"The smart marks are the best marks."

So the long con begins in earnest.


	3. Audio Diary - Ol' Reggie

Tucked away, almost completely hidden under the flood of water and the decaying staircase above it, was an audio diary. The machines were built to last and in Port Neptune there were plenty to find. This one had a woman's voice playing back on it, a bark of laughter in the words she'd recorded.

_"Reggie's a doll, really he is. Been working for me and my brother practically since he was still in diapers. It was one hell of a risk approaching him back at the time. He was a mountain of a man and I didn't have much besides my words and the protection of the public eye. Neither of which woulda have saved my hide after handing over the money if he decided to get nasty. At best he leaves without doing what I paid him for, at worst he could become a monster once out of sight."_

A slight pause and then laughter. "Imagine little Jackie's delight when he instead took a knee, called her miss and offered to work for half the price. Thought he was a right fool at the time but…bless his heart. Our Reggie is practically family. And you know how that song and dance goes." The smile in the woman's voice fades before pondering aloud in a soft whisper. 

_"I wonder if that still means anything to Frankie?"_

The audio diary runs out and goes quiet.


	4. Jaclyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note this was very loosely based around the book so a heap of slight changes and continuity errors will pop up here and there. This includes Frank's hair because fight me.

"Look at you." Jackie remarked. Disbelief managing to work its way into what should have been a derisive tone. "Taking clean-shaven to a whole new level are we, Frankie?"

There was her brother seated in front of the mirror, hands running over his now perfectly shaven head.

By his side was Reggie, with the weapon of choice still in his hand, a strand or two of blonde hair still hanging onto the device. Frank didn't immediately respond to his sister, didn't even offer her the common courtesy of acknowledging her existence, too wrapped up in his own reflection.

For a horrible second Jackie thought her brother – whom she'd never known to be narcissistic in his appearance a day in his life – was about to have a crisis. But then there was a short bark of laughter and Frank's grin returned full force. His new look grinned right back at him through the dirty mirror and Jackie's nerves eased, relieved that she wasn't going to have to go wig shopping again. Granted she'd never been in the market for wigs without a particular con in mind. Jackie would readily go searching for one if she thought her brother was about to cultivate some kind of vanity in himself.

Stepping properly into the office Jackie crept closer to see what her brother had done to himself. "Going to miss that mop of yours. My little squirt of a brother missing all his locks, whatever is a girl to do?" She lamented, eyes lingering on the strands of blonde littering the office floor.

"I have some dignity, sis." Frankie chuckled, running his fingers over the smooth surface of his head for what must have been the fifth time. "Not gunna become one of those rotting old fools clinging to every last strand of hair. Besides," Spinning in the chair Frank held out his arms in a 'take a look at me' gesture, still smirking. "Don't it look rather fetching?"

Humming thoughtfully Jackie paused for a moment, putting on a show of thinking it over but her brother's smiling was infectious and behind her hand Jackie was beginning to smirk right back. The pondering ended and with a pat on Reggie's cheek Jackie finally relented. "Always, brother."

This seemed enough for Frank who went right back to straightening out his clothes as though they might somehow better suit his new look if he only adjusted them a bit more. Perhaps there was a narcissist growing in her boy still.

With Frank occupied and positively beaming, Jackie turned her attention back to Reggie who had been stiff as stone for the entire exchange. Likely worried he'd offended at least one of the siblings. "Really now, Frankie." Jackie chided, not facing her brother as she danced her fingers across Reggie's shoulders, brushing away imagined grime. "Asking Reg to butcher your hair. You'll give the poor darling a heart attack."

Reggie's response was a familiar one. "I'm just fine, ma'am." Doe-eyed and much less tense under Jackie's attentions than her brother, Reggie managed a smile for her. He was quite awful at those, the muscles of his face not used to pulling into those directions.

Frank echoed Reggie's words somewhere in the distance, barely paying attention to the conversation but still aware enough to defend himself. Albeit with little effort.

Pouting Jackie fell into a familiar doting act.

No doubt Reggie knew she was not nearly as disgustingly sugary as she acted, maybe that was what made it all the sweeter. Regardless Reggie never called her on the behaviour and instead melted under her attentions in a way that was not at all revolting. He softened the way one would when indulging the whims of their slightly senile grandmother or nonsensical baby sister and it was perhaps Reggie's most charming trait in Jackie's eyes.

After all, Reggie had been in their employ since Frank was just a whelp and Jackie had only just scrapped together enough cash to pay for his protective services. That had been well over ten years ago and here he was, still just as polite and indulgent as he'd always been.

He might also have taken some comfort in knowing known that if Frank got a bit too trigger happy with him – Jackie would throw an absolute fit.

The lady  _liked_  him and that in itself was an oddity, one that ought to be preserved. It was a fairly common jab of Franks to point out that Jackie did not like people. She pleased them, doted on them, humored them, damn near coddled them – but she didn't _like_ a single goddamn one of them.

She was always quick to remind her brother she liked him and Reggie. Two he would say, and the old stage owner she’d retort – so three he could conclude. Three people in your whole miserable life – and all the rest are an afterthought.

Of course Jackie usually remarked not long after that Frank only liked two people and everyone else was a mark or on a good day – a bed warmer. There was no refuting that.

The end result of all this bickering was the same – Reggie was mostly sheltered from Frank's foul moods and Jackie's wicked sense of humor.

"Never know sis, he might just need to cut your hair soon." Frank proposed and every joint in Jackie's body locked up.

Turning slowly, the bones grinding under her skin she was so tense, Jackie stared at her brother as though he'd just gone right ahead and spoken in tongues. The murderous expression on her face caught Frank's eye from the mirror's reflection and prompted a laugh out of him while Reggie rushed to reassure Jackie.

"Mis- Ma'am it's quite alright." He gushed, clumsily trying to assure her that he wouldn't dare. "M-Mister Frank was just kidding. That's all, ain't it, boss?"

Might have been, hard to tell when Frank was laughing so hard he might just start leaking from the eyes. Doing no favours for Reggie's attempts to reassure the vexed woman.

All the while Jackie continued to bristle angrily. Perhaps it was her inner lady shrieking to be let back out, but she was extraordinarily precious about her gold locks. Her inner lady maybe, but Jackie was pretty sure it was actually the griffter in her blood snarling protectively over one of their greatest assets.

A dame with short hair might have a bit of spark in her appearance, a maturity and allure all her own. But a gal with hair like hers – long, blonde and well looked after? That was not the sort of thing to be taken lightly. Jackie had so few gifts at birth, her appearance was one of them and it had put bread on their table and money in their pockets for years before Frank started snatching wallets. Might as well be cutting gold for what it would cost her to lose it.

Of course Frank had put them in such a position that, strictly speaking, she actually didn't need it. Could have shaven her head just as bald as his and they'd still be coming into good money.

It might just be her with the vanity problem it would seem.

"Perhaps…" Jackie ground out after calming herself enough to not try and strangle her only living blood relative. "A trim would not be the worst idea…" Catching Reggie's alarmed stare and the sudden silence that fell over Frank – whom looked far too entertained by the idea – Jackie continued quickly. "But not you Reggie darling. I'm sure you're quite skilled, but I think this particular job requires a lady's touch."

At those words Reggie's whole body went lax with relief and Jackie chuckled at the sight. Poor dear, they really would give him a heart attack on of these days.

Stepping away from Reggie and back to her terror of a brother, hand anchored on her hips and back bent so she was at eye level with Frank. Just the right height to scowl at him properly. "And you." She began, pointing into her brother's smugly smiling face. "Not a  _peep_. You hear me, kiddo?"

Then in true little brother fashion, Frank managed to follow her instructions and still be a little shit.

With that same self-satisfied smirk, Frank raised two fingers to his shaven head and gave a mock salute. But he didn't utter a word and Jackie was left caught between wanting to smack his ridiculously shinny head and laugh at his shrewdness.

A compromise was reached between the two and with a gentle hand against her brother's face Jackie rolled her eyes. "Always a work around with you ain't it? Ya little bastard." Smiling fondly Jackie pressed a kiss against her brother's forehead before turning away and heading for the exit only for her feet to pause a few steps away from the door.

"Oh, of course." Snapping her fingers as the memory returned to her, Jackie glanced over her shoulder at Frank. "There was some pretty twist coming around the fisheries. The lads have been turning her away for the most part; been supplying her with what they're allowed when she has the scratch for it. They tell me she's some crackpot German dame. Sound like someone you know?"

It did.

Frank had gone from relaxed, at home with the only two people left alive that knew his real name, to Fontaine again. Acutely focused on what his sister had come to tell him. Information might as well be the currency of the land for the time being. Leaning forward in his chair, Frank's eyes were sharp once again. Wheels turning between his ears.

"They say anythin' else?"

Information might be the most valuable thing traded in Rapture, but Jackie gave it freely to her brother. "Yeah actually, you remember Johnson don't you? The talkative one with the formerly crippled hands?"

"The miracle boy, yeah I remember his mug. What of 'im?"

"Well, the boys tell me our little German gal took quite the interest in him. Relieved him of his underwater trophy. Says she was quite excited about it." It was difficult not to twist her face up in disgust at the memory of the thing that had taken a nip at Jonny's hand. She would never understand why he brought that filthy slug back with him, should have squashed it the moment he laid hands on the thing. But apparently the crackpot found some value in it. And if it was of value to a scientist…

"Keep an eye on the boys would you?" Fontaine requested, looking as though he was already slotting this new information into play. "And if she comes around again, send word my way. Real curious to see what a broad like that would be doing brushing shoulders with folks like my boys at the Port."

With a slight nod Jackie turned to leave and was surprised when Reggie came with her. The questioning look thrown his way was met with a slightly bashful smile. "A working man has to earn his keep." He offered up with a slight shrug. "And I wouldn't feel right letting you hang around those parts without another set of eyes watching your back miss Fontaine."

"Oh Reg, please. You know I ain't no Fontaine gal." Jackie chided sharply before softening her expression, knowing old Reggie meant only to be of assistance. "Don't be forgetting your lies now, Reggie." She reminded, adjusting his collar while the lump of a man fidgeted uneasily.

Lying was not his trade, never had been. But Jackie held hope for him yet, because what he lacked in lies he made up for with devotion. Why if she asked him to fly Jackie had half a mind to think he'd go ahead and sprout wings. "Now, say my name again, darling."

It took a moment but finally the lie came out. "Jaclyn Wayne."

…  
…

A month into Rapture and Jackie was beginning to wonder if her brother had conjured together this plan purely to spite her.

"You know most broads would be snapping at the heels to go out." Frank called from the front room, earning himself little more than an angry snarl from his sister, whom had not deemed it fit to so much as get dressed for the night. Pausing Frank's fingers stilled on his tie and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Unless you fancy eating whatever Reggie scrounges together, get your damn heels on, Jackie."

Reggie was an infamously bad cook and Jackie a gorger.

Smirking at his own reflection, Frank pretended to be adjusting his cuffs as Jackie came stumbling in, about halfway through a bottle of whiskey with a snarl on her face. "And who exactly do you think you are?" She seethed and this time Frank couldn't stop himself from laughing. Admittedly he made no great effort to stifle the sound.

"As far as Rapture is concerned – your boss."

"Bite me." Was Jackie's dazzling comeback.

Still smirking Frank watched as Jackie reluctantly got herself dressed. She loved beautiful things, he knew this. She adored it when things sparkled, loved bright colours and soft silks. He'd bought her plenty of nice things since coming to Rapture, a kind of penance for all the material goods they'd left behind.

He didn't say anything but it was just a little frustrating that she refused to actually wear any of those gifts. Why buy her the fashion of Rapture if she only ogled it in her closet? Tonight was a good excuse to get Jackie into the clothes she liked to look at so much.

When he looked up next and saw his older sister adjusting the chains around her throat, Fontaine thought himself rather ingenious for taking the opportunity. "See?" He gloated; ignoring the venomous look she cast him. "Even you can scrub up to be a respectable young lady when you try."

"Respectable young lady, oh please spare me the vomit." Jackie's mood had taken quite the downward spiral ever since Frank announced tonight was to be a night spent out. Rubbing shoulders with people that thought everything was above her pay grade. They'd likely be right but Jackie saw this as no less a reason to spit venom about them.

Why bring me, Jackie wanted to complain. Why drag me out to play when there's nothing fun to do there anyway.

But she knew the answer. This was nothing less than a strategic choice. Frank Fontaine was news now days. His name popping up in more and more people's minds, their conversations – likely a few of their dreams as well. Men might have nightmares about the growing influence of the formerly small businessman and the ladies…. Oh well now, what happened in a woman's head during the dead of night was entirely her business, wasn't it?

He'd be quite the attention grabber tonight. Coming away from his work on Ryan's invitation. This too a thinly veiled political move. Ryan was impressed by Fontaine, pleased by how he grabbed the market by the throat in such a short amount of time. Fontaine would be the man everyone watched tonight – which meant he'd be all smiles and charm.

This naturally he'd be unable to get a moment to himself. Which in turn meant he wouldn't have a chance to gather any truly juicy information from the night's discussion. He was too large a figure for people to let their guard down around.

Oh but Jaclyn Wayne – well she might as well preform an invisibility act for this evening.

"Not that I don't fancy listening to the incredibly droll things the fine young ladies and gents of Rapture gossip about," Jackie drawled, sounding as though she'd sooner take a fist to the mouth. "But what exactly does my brother dear expect me to overhear? I don't reckon any o' them actually know the code to Ryan's safe."

Clearly knowing his sister was being impudent for the sake of it, Frank fixed her with a steely look and laid it all out as clearly as was humanly possible. "Word moves quick in Rapture, place is a fish tank and folks don't have any choice but to be in each other's business. Cohen's a loon, but he also just so happens to be open to the odd illicit activity or two. Ryan would throw a fit if he knew, but what the old man don't know won't hurt him and it'll give us an edge."

"And you think Cohen's little band of freaks is going to feel particularly chatty?"

"No." Frank conceded with an unconcerned shrug. "But that's never been an issue for you in the past, has it?"

With a disgruntled huff and the click of a cuff around her wrist – Jackie yielded. Besides – if her brother were to have a single honest bone in his thoroughly corrupt body – there'd be free booze.

So when her brother offered her his arm, playing the part of a respectable business man – Jackie took it with only the smallest pinch of retaliation to inside of his wrist. Fontaine's smile tightened, a near imaginary wince of pain behind the expression and his sister's smile turned dazzling.

Andrew Ryan was never much of a party man. This of course did not sit well with the Rapture citizens who crafted half their lively hood around the activity. A shut in was still a shut in, no matter how influential or successful.

Inevitably the whispers would grow loud enough, bold enough and Andrew Ryan would part from his own little world to rejoin the rest of them. Cohen's attractions were usually where he chose to reappear in Rapture. Tonight was no show or performance, at least nothing that required the patron take seats to enjoy it. Instead Cohen had opened up his humble abode as a gala. But of course the artist could not have a simple party with normal decorations and so as they entered, Fontaine's name invitation enough, they were accosted with what passed as art now days.

To Fontaine's credit he barely batted an eye at the dancers atop the massive podiums of light but Jackie could not seem to take her eyes off their bodies. Dancers were by no means unusual, even if they were as naked as the day they were born. No, what was unusual about these bunny masked dancers was their feet.

Scorched, still smoldering and no doubt bleeding something fierce where her eyes could not see.

Not dancing, Jackie realised as her stomach fell out from under her, those jerky movements were little more than painful jerks. Attempts to stop their feet from burning anymore against the surface they'd been placed upon. Up above their heads, was a single figure bathed in light, Jackie watched as that person took issue with one of the dancer's 'lack of vision' and set their podium aflame again, dragging out screams from the poor thing.

An artist. Huh, the freak.

Fontaine felt his sister's movements turn stiff at his arm. "If it unsettles you don't look." He advised, not looking away from the path stretching out ahead of them. "Do you feel bad for the poor saps?"

"Not pity, empathy." Jackie clarified under her breath, words a near hiss. "I've danced on stages before, Fontaine. None of them were made of fire and no good dance has ever been given under threat."

"Careful, Jaclyn." The false name fell off her brother's tongue with an ease Reggie would never be able to emulate. "Cohen is not likely to agree with you."

It took every little bit of self-control she could muster to not utter a curse in response to that. Instead Jackie's fingers dug into Frank's arm a little more roughly.

She was hardly a woman of great moral fiber. Her hands were stained with blood just like half of Rapture, she'd watched people being tortured with little compassion in the past. But hearing the pained howls of that dancer turned her insides to ice for just a moment.

Yes, they'd hurt people. Killed, tortured, swindled – anything you could think of they'd likely done it. Jackie felt no guilt for this but now she was moralizing? It felt like hypocrisy to her. But… "It is without purpose." She said instead after both she and Frank had come to a stop at the end of the hall and awaited the doors to open, allowing them access to Cohen's little gathering.

Curiosity was the expression she caught in her brother's eye and just before the lock was unlatched, allowing the doors to swing inwards, Jackie gave him an answer. "You didn't gain anything from it."

Because wasn't that just the great truth of her nature? Every bad thing she'd ever done had been made in her brother's best interest. So long as Frank stood to gain something from it, Jackie would kill anyone. Lie to anyone. Destroy anyone. And when it was all said and done, she'd sleep just as easily as if she'd been an innocent babe.

Those people up on those podiums stood to give her brother nothing. Their suffering failed to provide him with any service and so Jackie was free to feel disgust at their treatment.

If Frank had any particular reaction to this it was swallowed up by Fontaine's mask as the light from inside the gala came spilling into the hallway. Without a word Frank gave his sister's hand a little squeeze in the crook of his arm and in they went.

The hall provided for the evening was extravagant. Much like everything Cohen did no doubt. The world seemed to glitter around them, the exquisite golden pillars lining the massive ball room, a stage playing host to a band that must have been Ryan's pick as opposed to Cohen's. They played peacefully, no threat of pain should a note fail to invoke the perfect sense of despair and whimsy that Cohen so adored. Although the songs they played were little more than background for the chatter of aristocratic voices.

Dazzling was the word for it. The people around the room were all dressed up to their eyes in items of luxary. The jewels adorning the women's bodies shone, each one a tiny sun that threatened to burn Jackie's roaming eyes. Their bodied bound up tight in the finest fabrics she'd ever seen and each face painted into a perfect porcelain doll. Their mouths were moving, laughing and whispering tiny white lies to those around them and soon it was their lips that stole Jackie's gaze.

Each set a different shape and coloured shade of red. Not a single pair of smiling lips left unpainted or untouched by a doctor's knife and all undeniably beautiful.

"Dr. Steinman's work, I'd wager." That was Frank's voice, a quiet knowing whisper at her side. He knew his sister was weak from the moment they set foot into this debauched wonderland. He knew full well he her knees buckled at the sight of unholy beautiful things and even more so when confronted with beautiful people. Their lips had her captivated right up until it darned on her that they were likely as authentic as their breasts.

Now Jackie was never one to shun the work of a steady knife and keen eye. Anything for a more beautiful view she believed, but there was something disheartening when she realised that what she'd briefly seen as an array of different looks was truly just one. Just one idea of what beauty was. Where was the exquisiteness of a smile that just allowed for a single tooth to show or the attractiveness of a laugh that was all their own as opposed to the air giggle most the woman made.

Where was the perfection in imperfection?

Holding onto this disappointment Jackie was able to come back to herself. Once again having legs made of flesh and bone as opposed to flimsy jelly. "They're gorgeous." She admitted out loud but then more quietly added. "But hardly interesting."

At this Fontaine laughed. The sound holding just a hint of Frank underneath before it was completely smothered by the lie. "Let's get a drink shall we?" He suggested, steering Jackie away from the first group of lovely pinup doll looking women she'd set eyes on and towards a server. The man smiled right up to his ears and not a trace of it in his eyes when they approached him.

"Good evening sir, madam. Would you care for a drink?" The champagne he offered was insanely expensive. The sort of drink she couldn't have afforded on her life back topside, and yet Jackie found herself wishing it were a shot of vodka anyway. Regardless Fontaine grabbed two glasses, offering one to his sister who took it all disappointment set aside.

A drink was a drink and she'd need it to survive this.

"Steady there, love." He advised before Jackie had the chance to drink the contents of the slim glass in one fell swoop. "A whole night ahead of us." Translation – do not get plastered within the first few minutes. If he thought she wasn't at least a little bit buzzed from earlier that day her brother was clearly delusional. Regardless Jackie begrudgingly slowed down. Taking a sip where she desperately craved a gulp.

Fortunate she had because not a moment later the main attraction arrived. "Mister Fontaine." Jackie had actually never heard Andrew Ryan's voice without a radio between them and she found herself thinking the medium did him a disservice.

The man's voice was smooth, strong with every word and not all that terrible to listen to. He was a speaker and Jackie was listening despite herself. Frank turned on his 'name' and smiled himself. "Andrew Ryan! A pleasure." He greeted Ryan in a warm manner, his voice merrier than it would have ever been otherwise.

They'd met in person before but still when Fontaine reached out for a handshake Ryan answered with a firm grasp. Fontaine's actions were friendly but Jackie could still see just how tightly the pair locked hands. Ryan's civil performance was less cheerful than her brothers and despite being at a party he remained as stony as all of his portraits would suggest. His spine could have been an iron bar he held himself so straight and rigid.

"And where is miss McClintock?" Fontaine inquired, making a point to glance around for the missing woman that was so often on Ryan's arm.

Waving off the question, Ryan smoothly answered. "Diane is in poor health this evening. But she insisted I come out and mingle with the public regardless. I am quite pleased you took up my invitation, Fontaine. Your expansion of the fisheries is quite impressive, if half of Rapture showed your initiative…"

There was a momentary pause, a kind of grinding of Ryan's gears and he took notice of something he was expected to do.

Likely he'd been content to go on about work, to properly talk to Fontaine about the subject but realised a moment later that he'd overlooked an important social expectation.

Gradually his gaze settled on Jackie, having taken a few seconds to acknowledge there was a living thing attached to Fontaine's arm. It was probably the mention of his missing lady that brought his attention to her. "My apologies." He began, tone not quite in the realm of apologetic but certainly smoother. The gracious tone of talking to a lady for the first time. "I do not believe we've been formally introduced, miss?"

"Jaclyn Wayne." Jackie answered promptly, a sweet smile accompanying the lie as it slid with practiced ease from her tongue.

Briefly Ryan's eyes flicked back to Fontaine's face – searching for a further answer there.

For the first time Jackie wondered if Ryan was just as suspicious of Fontaine as he had been that first week and simply masked it better under words of admiration. This invitation would certainly be another opportunity for him to needle Frank under the guise of an informal conversation.

"My personal assistant." Frank added, an explanation to their relationship before speculation could begin. Likely it would regardless. "She keeps my affairs in order and me on time. I'd be at a complete loss without her."

Almost as if she was following a script, Jackie laughed. Lightly batting Fontaine's arm. "He's talking nonsense to make an old girl feel appreciated. I'll leave the pair of you to your business. I'm sure I'd only get in the way. It has been a pleasure Mr. Ryan."

"Likewise miss." He was courteous but Jackie could have laughed at how cold his words were. The man wouldn't know how to pretend to be friendly if his life depended on it.

With this thought warming her face into a near genuine smile, Jackie bowed her head just a bit and then turned on the ball of her foot to make a quick escape. She wouldn't hear anything interesting stuck to her brother's side all night.

Although leaving him with Ryan did have Jackie a little anxious. Not entirely sure her brother would handle it too well before long. His feelings towards Ryan were volatile at the best of times and being in close proximity with him for a whole night was sure to set him off eventually.

Left to her own devices Jackie weaved through the crowd Jackie did her damndest not to look at the many lovely women but inevitably she would glance at one or two. Initially her heart leapt and Jackie felt hot in the face but then she looked that little bit closer and found their eyes next. Up close Jackie thought their jewels and plush lips would steal her heart but those eyes…they doused the blazing fire in her chest leaving her cold and unenthusiastic.

There was just something so lackluster about those eyes. Some were cynical, sneering down on Jackie as though she were the rats that she knew scurried around the smugglers hideout. The crafty little things came in with the shipments of illegal good and set up house in the Port. Then there were those that were left cold and hard from some lifetime of disappointment. Perhaps scorned by men or still scorning some themselves – bitter and unresolved in their anger.

Not a single pair of eyes Jackie found had that spark. Not a single pair lit up the room when the women smiled, or sparkled when they laughed. They were all cold and dead and Jackie's love for them further dwindled.

However, she was not here to ogle the goods. She was supposed to be tuning in to whatever spicy little words slipped free of those painted lips. The men would talk amongst themselves sparingly. Some kind of unspoken fear of emasculating themselves staying their tongues, but when it was a broad at their side the men gossiped something fierce. Their words were more vicious than their lady companions and often more whiny under the façade of impartial scrutiny.

It was the men that Jackie listened to the most and it was those same men that when met with a sweet face and dreamy eyes that would loosen their tongues. She didn't ask much of them, just a bit of chatting and their rewards a few brief touches and happy giggles. Jackie made these boys think that in the city of only men – they were the one true king. All her attention, all her flattery and all her admiration was theirs for as long as they kept on speaking and the words were useful.

Jackie thought herself a genius. Not unlike how her brother marveled at his own skill in deceiving people.

What she failed to realise was that she was an actor in the artist's domain. It did not take long for her mask to catch the eye of the man of the night himself.

"What a lovely necklace." Jackie's nerves prickled angrily when the man she'd been chatting with was interrupted by a stronger voice. The man opposite her shut his mouth tight in an instant, cutting off that little tidbit he'd been saying about Sinclair Solutions. Irritated but striving to keep her smiling mask in place she turned towards the newcomer only to see why her partner had suddenly gone so still.

Cohen.

Standing with a freshly painted face and an immaculately tailored suit, the artist beamed at the pair of them. With both eyes on him Cohen took a bow far deeper than the slight dip Jackie had offered to Ryan. The man was a showman that carried his act far beyond the realm of the stage and for all his oddities, Jackie felt vastly outmatched.

"A delight surely." Cohen said brightly, as though names had already been exchanged. "Miss Wayne, I do believe?" Oh good, he wanted to talk to her.

Jackie bit back the urge to groan, she'd hoped he'd been aiming for a discussion with the tense man at her back. Instead he held out his hand to Jackie as though he intended to kiss it and reluctantly she gave it. His hands were alarmingly smooth, they felt unnatural against her skin but Jackie had to refrain from allowing a shudder to rush through her body.

Still smiling Cohen turned her hand over to kiss her palm. This did get a little jolt of alarm out of Jackie, having prepared for the back of her hand to be touched, but of course the artist never could do things the normal way. Struggling for her own voice, Jackie eventually managed to speak out. "And I know you of course Mr. Cohen. But how do you know little ol' me?"

The man's smile was the look of a man with the key to a box buried deep underground. A secret he might just share and Jackie's nerves skyrocketed. "You ask how when the real question is why. Precious little else is important besides the why. Tell me, what is yours?"

 _Artists_.

The thought hung heavily in Jackie's mind, tainted with disgust. But she was in this man's playground, had to play his game and try not to get on his sensitive nerves. She had work to do and some artist's ridiculous mind games were not about to ruin it.

Now fully turning her attention away from the man who had the misfortune of being interrupted by Cohen's whims, Jackie gave the owner of the ball all her attention. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Cohen. I'm afraid I'm not even the slightest bit artistically inclined. I'd make terrible company for you before long."

Cohen laughed at her. A deep chuckle that came right from the core of his chest that made Jackie's skin crawl. "Oh, no, no, no, amoret. I see those feet moving, that voice twisting – you have a dancer in you surely."

It had been her mistake to think Cohen's madness somehow impacted his shrewdness. But his eyes were sharp and Jackie realised she was not playing her part well enough. Her steps ought to have been clumsy, her voice not that of a singer. Yet Cohen had caught her out where it ought to have been impossible. He was a mad man, an artist and a far more astute man than she'd given him credit for.

Deciding to change up her lie a bit, Jackie played the part of an embarrassed lady. "It would be…unbecoming of a woman such as myself to be a dancer, sir. I mind the books and my tongue – that is all."

"That is all she says." Cohen muttered as though there was a third party only he was privy too. "Hmm, no this won't do at all. A voice like that should be put to better use. I could make you a star amoret! Yes, my muse could surely make something fantastic with those legs."

Funny, Jackie reckoned she could do a thing or two with these legs. Like cram her foot so far up Cohen's ass he'd actually taste the shit coming out of his mouth. Calming herself as best she could Jackie tried one last time. "Please Mr. Cohen – you'll make an honest woman blush."

"Oh, but you're no honest woman are you, amoret?" That just about did it.

In an instant the façade slipped and Jackie felt her mask of a smiling maiden drop into a more familiar scowl. "Clearly not." She answered coldly. "Do I make an exceptionally poor actor to your artistic sensibilities, Cohen?" There was no one else listening, no one that could report her spiteful words but Jackie knew it was dangerous to say all the same.

"Ohoho, there she is. The real amoret speaks, or…at the very least the oldest. Quite the coarse little muppet aren't you?"

The urge to ask him what on earth gave her away was nearly overwhelming but Jackie bit her tongue and tried to think of anything else to say. The man was clearly off his nut, so many artists in Rapture were, so what if he managed to see through a little performance?

But for as mad as he might be, all men wanted something. "Is there something you'd like from me, Cohen?"

The gleam in his eyes was confirmation enough. Now it was only a matter of what.

"You've heard that…" There was a struggle. Cohen sought out any word that would inspire offence but eventually spat out a vicious. "...singer, Anna Culpepper, yes?"

"Ryan's songbird?"

The disdain for the title was clear in the way Cohen's little moustache seemed to twitch downwards upon hearing it. So the artists did not get along – how comical. "Of course I've heard of her, Culpepper is Ryan's favorite singer." The words came easily, just to see if Cohen would explode at the implication of being second best.

To the man's credit he managed to bite down the fury swirling behind his eyes. However, the smile he managed to keep in place had turned positively poisonous. "Yes…quite." He ground out, only just able to hold onto a tone of civility. "Her work could benefit from some…lets say creative inspiration. She sounds perfectly lovely I'm sure, but the lyrics are…they leave something to be desired." Jackie was almost beginning to feel delighted at being approached by Cohen, if only so she could watch him desperately try not to outwardly explode and spit venom about the other performer.

Give it time. Jackie mused. They'd step on each others toes to the point where they'd both be flinging insults and Jackie might actually find that exchange more entertaining than any one of their actual performances.

However that small sliver of amusement was quickly dashed by Cohen's next words. "I see that in you too, amoret. Just a little creative direction and you could be absolutely wonderful. Granted not much of an artist in you, but no matter. You were not made to be a creative, you're built to deliver an artist's vision."

Were it not for the fact Cohen might have just been right on the money, Jackie would have attributed these words to his insanity. Instead she found herself rather disarmed by just how accurate he could be. Briefly she thought of the lyrics she couldn't write but had desperately wanted to. Jackie could preform other's work, but never her own. That was why she relied so heavily on Frank, he crafted lies from thin air and she delivered them to perfection. Without his script to follow Jackie's act would fall flat.

"Sounds to me like you're actually pitching me an angle, Cohen." Jackie muttered dryly. "Were I not perfectly aware of how this particular song and dance goes I might be tempted. I adore the stage, I adore the spotlight – but what I don't at all fancy is finding myself locked into a dead-end with a back room that's got my name for it, just waiting for some paying customer to come walking on by."

Jackie had heard this story countless times. Watched it play out once or twice as well. Some poor dove with big dreams and too few smarts got a pretty voice or a nice swing in her step and so comes along a man like Cohen with an eye for it and soon she's whisked away thinking she'll be a star. They ain't never stars for long, they're usually only on stage for an hour with ones being thrown at them. Just like that their dream was over and they were stuck there until their voice weren't so pretty and their step not so bouncy anymore. Jackie could play any part with little problem – but she sure as hell wasn't backing herself into a contract she couldn't run from.

"Besides, Mister Fontaine's papers won't sort themselves." Jackie added with a slightly more civil smile back on her face. "I got a job to do, Mr. Cohen and I'm not about to do wrong by my employer by running off to become a star. So thank you for the consideration but I really must-"

She turned and Cohen caught her wrist. In an instant Jackie went still. A white rush of hot anger flooding through her body, seeming to spawn from where the artist had grabbed her. Being as sharp as he was, the artist no doubt saw the murder in her eyes when she glanced back, but rather than relent the fingers at her wrist only tightened a fraction.

"It's a waste." He told her fiercely. "What good does a fire like that do for papers and books? Don't be so hasty to turn away from things you were made to do, here amoret." Into the palm of the hand Cohen held firm, a small slip of paper was slipped. "If curiosity bests you dear – and I know it will," Cohen chuckled, un winding his fingers from around Jackie's wrist, leaving the paper behind. "Come see yourself."

His pitch made and taking up root inside of Jackie's skull, Cohen excused him. Another deep bow and he was gone. A man was obtuse as himself should not have been able to slip into a crowd as easily as he did, leaving the still seething woman staring in the direction he'd gone long after he'd vanished.

The scrap of paper that had been pushed into her hand felt rough against her skin, uncomfortable and unnaturally heavy for something its size. Knowing it was her own head giving it more weight than it truly had, Jackie begrudgingly looked at what she'd been given. It was little more than a time and place with the tag line of 'come meet Andrew Ryan's favorite gal!'

"A call girl show?" Jackie scoffed, not sure what the hell Cohen thought he was achieving by giving her this. Hadn't she made it abundantly clear she knew a call-girl was all an aspiring star became? Why provide her with fire hand evidence?

It occurred to Jackie as she thought this over, more focused on the little scrap of paper than the rest of the gathering around her that Cohen was one cunning bastard. They both knew Jackie was perfectly aware of where this dream went, and so he'd handed her the end result and it left Jackie baffled.

Her  _curiosity_ …

"Holy shit." Jackie growled in disbelief under her breath, pocketing the invitation. "He might actually be a genius."

 


	5. Audio Diary - Pretty Dreams

For all the destruction in Rapture, the Fort Frolic’s Fleet Hall remained in fairly good condition. Like most of Cohen’s wonderland it had been closed off from the rest of Rapture for quite some time and the result was little damage from roaming splicers. However, the artist had made the Fleet Hall something of a nightmare within itself. 

His human art lined the seats, modeled in silent applause. The deafening silence of the hall leaving the statues silent cheers as an eerie reminder of just how little true life remained in Rapture. 

But among them, dropped under one of the many audience chairs – there was an audio diary that gave voice in the silence.

_“Cohen’s a right lunatic me brother says.” Jaclyn Wayne’s voice drawled, wearier with the passage of time than she’d been with the last recording. “I’m inclined to agree but…I don’t think Frankie realizes that just because he’s committable that makes him an idiot. Gotta be more careful…or he’ll get his hooks into one of us. He’s got plenty of other girls and lads with promises of fame before. Might not bother my brother but if Cohen starts picking through our boys he’s going to step on Frankie’s toes.”_

The words paused, replaced by the sound of paper being moved. The quiet rustling of something being unfolded and smoothed out next to the audio diary while it recorded.

_“But hell, if I ain’t curious about this little show he’s got running in Eve’s Garden… I wonder if Frankie would notice I’m missing for an evening?”_

The diary finished some time after that question, running dead after a few seconds of uncertain silence.


	6. Eve's Garden

The next day, Jackie was dead to the world.

She felt as though all the pressure of being at the bottom of the ocean that they were spared from by Rapture's outer shell, was all suddenly bearing down on her. Adding a imagined fifteen thousand tons of extra weight to each limb. The mere thought of moving made her sick to her stomach and so much as a twitch of her fingers became a great undertaking.

It had been a good long while since Jackie had been that drunk or this hung-over. She'd made a near suicidal effort in consuming the alcohol provided to her that night. Admittedly she had not accounted for just how strong the expensive stuff was. In Jackie's experience, the strongest drinks had always been filling a desperate man's cup – not the rich snobs of Ryan's inner circle. But she had to hand it to the stuffed shirts, they certainly got their money's worth.

Unfortunately couple this with the drinks being freely provided, in constant supply and Jackie wanting to drink until she couldn't feel feelings anymore – the situation had quickly spiraled out of her control. Where she'd expected nine drinks to leave her buzzed, the misinformed gal found herself with two left feet by the time she was on her fourth and about as determined to continue down the path of drunkenness as she'd been when she began.

The result was exactly what one could expect. She was blind by the end of the night and only just managed to stumble her way back to the Fisheries with someone – whom she could only guess had been her brother – keeping her on her own two feet.

Inside the dingy little office, that had quickly become her second bedroom, all the blinds were pulled and all the lights killed. It was dark and it was quiet – and that might have just been the only reason Jackie was not currently dead where she lay.

So of course, the moment Frankie arrived – he put a stop to that.

The heavy echo of footsteps was her first warning, the second came with the sound of the office's wooden door being unlocked and pushed open. This brought with it the first flood of light and Jackie's entire body cringed away from that sliver of the outside world leaking in around the shape of her brother's body. Jackie tried to shield herself from the light although she still felt as though she'd been made out of a rock chiseled into the shape of a gorgeous woman that had somehow been gifted with the ability to experience and indeed feel nothing but pain.

Mercifully the door slid back shut with a click and the outside world was once again hidden away from the surely dying woman.

Then the footsteps sounded again, closer and pounding in time with the gross pulsating of a brain that felt too large for it's skull behind her eyes. They came to a standstill by Jackie's side, her brother taking a moment to survey the damage before giving Jackie a small nudge with the tip of his shoe. Her response and inhuman snarl from low in the back of her throat.

And damn him, Frank had the gall to laugh.

"Rise and shine." He crowed just before flinging open the blinds allowing the artificially light of Rapture to come pouring in. Immediately the woman made of stone and agony became flesh and blood again – only to shriek and leap up off her deathbed. Finding herself sprawled out on the dirty wooden floor, the blanket that had at some point been laid across her body now tangled around her legs.

Writhing like some deep-water sea beast that had been hurled up onto the land under the sun for the first time in all his miserable life, Jackie began to hiss at her wretch of a brother. "You want to fucking write your will out!?" She screeched at Frank, who had somehow still found the will to pull open the second set of curtains while laughing so hard he might as well have been choking.

Undeterred by the threat of murder, Frank pulled all the curtains and even went so far as to open up the windows. This brought with it the sound of the outside world. The noise of the workers bustling about the port was almost as grating on her ears as the light was on her eyes. Were she coherent enough to take notice, Jackie would have realised it was noon.

Each time of day had a particular brand of sounds. The dawn brought with it the early construction workers. Morning then brought in all the other workers, fluctuating between tired grumbling and excited greetings. Midday was a bit quieter, lunch being gathered and conversation falling into a casual chatter before breaking back into barked orders and the scuffle of men giving their final heave of effort as the work day came to a close.

Right now the sound was less energetic than morning and midday. People were talking and those few that worked late were still at it, in all honesty it was the quieter time of day. The quietest before the world turned dark again.

Had Frank decided to rouse her during the morning bustle Jackie might just have had a heart attack.

Finally the laughter quieted down, superseded by the return of her brother. "And don't you just look like a right pile of shit." Frank goaded, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he peered over the side of the bed at his disheveled sister.

The urge to strangle Frank was trumped by the need to keep all the bile churning in her stomach from bubbling up through her throat. The absolute last thing she needed was to throw up on their already filthy floor. Although the mental image of Frank's shoes covered in vomit was a tempting one.

Taking a few steadying breaths to once again ground herself in reality and attempt to put an end to the ringing in her ears, Jackie gradually worked herself back down. Finally, once she was absolutely sure that there was no longer a threat of being sick, she turned her gaze back up to scowl at her obnoxious brother.

"Cram it chrome dome, I look fucking stunning."

"You look a one wrong step away from puking your guts out."

She'd not give him the satisfaction of a verbal confirmation.

Instead Jackie groaned lowly and tipped her head back against the cool surface of the floor. She could still feel her brother's amused smile even with her eyes fixated on the ceiling overhead.

"Just stay there, yeah?" Frankie announced after a moment of peace. Easing himself back upright the budding smuggling lord turned his back to his currently suffering sister in favor of picking up his favorite coat. The nice one. The one he only bothered to wear when he intended to be seen by men that weren't under his employ just yet. "Had to make sure ya were still breathing before I went out. "

"Could'a done that without the whole big song and dance…" Jackie groused. "Couldn't 'ave just checked on me like a normal brother. Had to go that extra mile and ruin my beauty sleep."

"Ah, not enough beauty sleep in the world to fix what's wrong with you, Jackie." Had she the strength Jackie may have gotten up just to give him a swat for that. But as it was she could only glare at him form a distance as Frank got himself dressed.

"Looking all proper like…" Jackie noted dryly. "You got another dinner date with our lord and master, Ryan?"

The little derisive snort Frankie answered with almost had her thinking he really was going down that road. "It's that German twist." He explained offhandedly but suddenly Jackie was more focused on him than her headache.

Tenenbaum had been around more frequently now days, asking for more supplies the boys weren't' sure they were allowed to sell to her. She'd been one of Rapture's elite, one of Ryan's bleeding council – what was she doing with the likes of them? Asking for scraps when she ought to have been working up in some fancy lab? Of course they were cagey around her.

Oh but not Frankie. He'd gone to hear her out, see what it was she was doing that Ryan just wouldn't have a bar of. If Andrew Ryan disapproved, Fontaine was always there to do just the opposite.

"Spent the morning listening to 'er." Frank's hands were on his tie, adjusting it although clearly it needed no such attention. "Just need's a good friend that gal does."

"And you think you're going to be that friend?"

"Easy now, sis. You'll hurt a man's feelings with that tone." The small smirk he tossed back at her through the mirror said otherwise but Jackie didn't argue the point. "She just needs supplies and there ain't a soul out there that would say Fontaine doesn't provide. Just going to get the little lady set up and we'll be on our way."

Then Jackie saw it. Through all the alcohol and growing migraine, Jackie finally took notice of the particular glow that had surrounded her brother. Oh he was excited. Positively thrilled. Whatever it was Tenenbaum had to say it clearly struck a cord with him and suddenly there was a new bounce in his step and a second layer of mirth to his smile.

On the one hand, Jackie couldn't have been happier. There were few things in this leaky waste of a city that pleased her more than her Frankie being happy. But on the other…what was he up to now? Jackie distantly remembered the enthusiastic stage boy that would moonlight as a small time criminal – those days felt far away and incredibly more simple than this.

Men like Andrew Ryan were more threatening that G-men or common politicians. If Fontaine trod on too many toes he'd be facing a fate far worse than a lifetime in prison.

Nevertheless …Jackie had never been in the business of refusing her brother the things he wanted.

With a quiet groan of disquiet Jackie hauled herself upright, feeling her stomach give a queasy turn as she moved. It went ignored as Jackie angrily told her own body to get itself back together. They'd been this hung over before and if there were to be more nights like the last, she would be again. "Fine." She sighed wearily. "You go ahead and play buddy-buddy with the mad scientist, but don't you be getting caught up in any of that loons delusions."

"I'm nothing if not practical, sis." And now that sounded like a boldfaced lie.

Her silence said just a little too much and gradually Frank's attention shifted from his suit to his sister. Turning he was met with her skeptical stare and a faint smile crossed his face. "You're worried." He noted, no question in his words. The silence persisted and with a sigh Frank approached his sister, taking a knee in front of her so they were at eye level with one another again.

"Don't." He instructed gently, reaching out to rest his hand atop Jackie's rats nest. "Just trust me, will ya? Your brother's going to take care of everything and with this crackpot's discovery; I'm going to be pulling in enough scratch to move us out of this hole and into the high-rises of Rapture. Just to wait and see."

"You're still not smiling." Frankie murmured, sounding a little surprised his attempts to sooth her uncertainties had fallen short. They never had before.

Frowning Jackie reached up to take Frank's hand from atop her head and hold it between both of her own. "Just don't be letting the con slip away from you Frankie." She cautioned in an equally quiet voice.

"I haven't forgotten the rules sis." Then with a smile, Frankie recited the well-weathered words back to the person who'd taught them to him. "A smart mark is the best mark. Never look only at the prize. Remember to keep your face on at all times." There was a small pause and Frank's fingers tightened around her smaller hands, a firm, grounding comfort. "Family always comes first."

Ignoring the persisting sense of apprehension, Jackie met her brother's smile with one of her own. "And here I thought you weren't listening." She teased affectionately and was rewarded with Frankie's smile warming.

Liar or not, Jackie knew he would abide by the rules. There was no reason to be worried – no one knew how to play a con like her little brother.

…  
…

While her brother was out, Jackie was looking at the little  _invitation_  Cohen had passed her.

A more rational gal would have tossed it the moment she was clear to do so. Burnt it if she felt particularly vindictive. But Jackie had been unable to discard the little scrap of paper. Instead letting it rest in her pocket for the better half of the day, wondering if she might just forget about it. Instead the presence of the paper all but burnt away in her pocket. She was ever aware of it, unable to block the thought out for more than a few minutes at a time.

For all Cohen's lunacy – he certainly knew how to hook a girl.

Frankie had been gone for little over three hours by the time Jackie finally caved in and dragged the paper out into the light. Staring at it with a hatred that surely it did not deserve. But those little inked words were mocking her. Digging into her nerves like nothing she'd ever known. Because damn it all she  _was_  curious but as Cohen predicted.

She'd been to some pretty nasty places in her time. Dive bars, well known pick up corners and more than her fair share of dark alleyways. This Eve's Garden was likely the classiest filth she'd ever been invited to. It was not the content itself that intrigued Jackie – more the invitation itself. Why did Cohen reckon a 'respectable' lady such as herself would be swayed by some skimpy clothes and private dance rooms?

The invitation was dated, later that night. Well and truly into the dark hours of the day. When all the good boys and girls would be asleep and the adults left to their vices, as though the shield of night would protect them from their own depravity. Jackie needed no such shield, but she appreciated the atmosphere if nothing else.

Two hours before the performance of the night began. Two hours to decide if she'd take the bait. Two hours Jackie spent scrapping together something decent to wear, a face to paint on and a bathysphere to ride in.

Two hours that Jackie spent cursing her own insatiable need to know.

Fort Frolic was about as outlandish as a place could get. All bright flashing lights and jerky movements to assault the eye. There was something juvenile in the energy that crackled in the air, the sort of feeling that prompted spontaneity and usually rational men to empty their pockets for a pretty smile or a loaded bet. Jackie had to hand it to the man, he certainly knew how to make a stage and the actors didn't even know they were dancing on it. Unfortunately Jackie had the distinct impression she was dancing to his tune as well.

There were ample opportunities to shop and play the pokies, but Jackie head straight for the garden. Frank might have been more than happy to supply her with every piece of clothing in Rapture, but Jackie wasn't about to buy a damn thing unless it was on her own money. If only to bother Frank, who apparently thought he was failing as a brother if he was not lavishing her with gifts. He would drive some poor broad mad like that one day.

With twenty minutes left to kill before the show, Jackie found herself at the doors to Eve's Garden. Along with half the male population of Rapture if she was to embellish just a touch. Most were turned away, only those few with invitations allowed in. When Jackie stepped up to the door, meeting the stare of the burly bouncer with a bored look of her own – producing the invitation for Cohen, she was given a confused once over.

She was certainly not the first lady of the night. Jackie knew women were just as regular in these sorts of scenes as the men. Perhaps fewer in number but certainly no oddity. Still the bouncer looked at her like she was indeed an odd one.

"Something wrong, honey?" She asked, tone caught between sickly sweet and venomous. The man jolted in alarm, perhaps only now realising he'd been slack jawed and staring.

"N-Nuthin' miss." He stumbled, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. "Just didn't expect to see your type around here."

"My type." The words so flat and dead as they exited her mouth that Jackie was frankly a little surprised that the bouncer didn't just drop dead himself.

The jarhead stumbled to amend what might have been considered an incredibly rude statement. "No offence meant, miss." He assured quickly. "Just not too many gals from the working class coming to see Ryan's favourite." Working class, well she supposed she was still that. Regardless Jackie gave a small shrug and gestured around herself as if to say 'well here I am.'

Finally getting the message that Jackie wasn't going in blind or on some sort of exploration of sexuality, the guard awkwardly shifted aside allowing her access to Eve's Garden.

The first step into the place and she knew it was going to be far better kept than any of the strip joints she'd been to back topside. The whole place was practically overflowing with flowers and pieces of fine art. Some of which would no doubt be Cohen's. Jackie idly wondered how well looked after the girls of the whore house under another name would be. Perhaps it wasn't so horrible being a girl in Eve's Garden. They'd have all the expensive gifts in the world, food and care beyond anything that Jackie had ever had.

But then again, the pay off was their body and Jackie wasn't sure she was quite willing to pay that price.

Unfortunate. If she'd been a little less picky about the hands placed on her person, she could have made a pretty penny selling herself. So if the girls here didn't mind the job, made good money and were looked after – who was she to judge? Clearly they'd found a far better set up than her own. A damn shame really.

As she's expected the gathering was primarily men but there were certainly a few women here and there. Looking at them now she understood the guard's surprise – they were all clearly high end twists. Come to see the lower creature's performances. Some would be here out of spite, to look down upon those filthy skanks that would sell themselves, and others would be just like the men – appreciating the body of a fine woman. Jackie liked to think of herself as the later, there was no judgment to be found from orphaned circus girl. A dancer was a dancer, no matter her stage.

All Jackie could hope was that none of the women up on that stage tonight thought it went anywhere from there. Perhaps one would be good enough and lucky enough to move higher up – but most wouldn't. It was the sad fact of life, made even more obstinate by Rapture.

Side eyeing the main dancing stage Jackie happily took a seat at the bar. More than able to get a good look of the stage from there but also within reaching distance of a drink should she need one. The echo of her hellish morning still pounded in the back of her mind, but the way Jackie saw it a girl needed a drink to get by when she found herself sitting in a place like this. At the behest of a mad artist no less.

Still curious as to why he thought this might sway her, Jackie ordered up something light to start herself off with. Judging by the look the server gave her he though she was either a lightweight or some curious gal that had put herself in it too deep. Well, perhaps she had, couldn't get much deeper in the shitter than the bottom of the ocean. Regardless of his thoughts the man brought her the drink and Jackie was inclined to give him a smile as she pulled out a note far too large for the situation at hand.

At first he looked at her skeptically but Jackie made it abundantly clear what she meant when the slip of cash was pressed into the front of his shirt. Tipping was hardly an acceptable practice in Rapture and Jackie had never fancied it until Ryan undoubtedly disliked it. Those two things were exactly what he needed and the coldness behind his own smile warmed considerably.

 _That'a boy._  Jackie mused as she watched him move on off.

She'd never cared much for the common worker. Never taken the time to think about any one else or their situation, but the longer she was in Rapture the more she began to take notice. So many rich and influential people – all more than ready to turn their nose up at the good working folks. Clean their shit, make their food and what do they get for it? The bare minimum in every way. Perhaps even less when it came to being treated like an actual person.

Jackie refused to think she actually cared about their plight. It just wasn't in her to be a decent human being, but she sure as hell didn't mind getting under a few stuffed shirt's sensibilities. And if that meant slipping some serving boy a little extra scratch – hell she had some to spare.

"Frankie's boys must be making me soft behind the ears. " Jackie muttered into her drink before tipping the glass back. Shuddering in delight as it burned going down. Hellish morning or not, she'd never swear off a good drink.

Just as she was thinking about ordering something with a bit more a kick, something that would get her well and truly on her way back to a lack of sobriety, the stage lit up. Along with it came the return of her curiosity. Slouched back at the bar, feeling little need to posture herself while in a place like this, Jackie watched to see what all the fuss was about.

It'd be a right foul lie to say that Jackie did not immediately understand when Jasmine Jolene came onto stage.

Her first and for quiet some time  _only_  thought was – those legs. The red heeled boots rose along the length of the woman's leg, stopping just short of her upper thigh, leaving a small expanse of creamy white flesh before being hidden once again under the small slip of a thing the dancer wore. Jackie knew this trick, covering just enough but showing everything at the exact same time. She knew it and yet still found herself focused on the way the woman's body twisted under the small amount of coverage she wore. Wondering if it would look just as appealing were she completely unclothed.

Of course there was an announcement but there was truly no need, that golden hair and those hips – anyone that had seen a poster would know this woman's name and they'd too know those blasted pinups did her no justice. Nothing did justice to the way she moved. Jackie recognized a dancer's pattern in her steps, counted her time and watched as she kept it perfectly. Too much skill for a pole taught gal she reckoned. The ones that learnt by the pole had a different rhythm, something firmer, constructed from the muscles they needed to build to move their body around in a way that suggested gravity no longer applied to them. But Jolene moved like water, curving her spine back around the pole as her feet kept sliding smoothly under her.

Jackie admired her skill while many focused on those breasts, pressing against the cold steel of her imagined partner. Although Jackie did allow her focus to wander back to those hips as they moved across the pole, and like so many of the other patrons allowed herself to wonder what it might feel like if she stood in its place. Oh now there was a pretty fantasy.

One Jolene readily supplied fuel for. Distantly Jackie's mind carried back to the crowds she'd dance for on stage. How eager they were to buy into the pretty lie she provided them and how happily she'd been to indeed provide it. She doubted very deeply that Jolene was as ecstatic to be supplying their particular fantasy. Oh no, Jackie could stop that dancer's quick tempo from a mile away and knew it was a wholly different stage Jolene would want. One of the unlucky dreamers then.

The performance went on for what seemed like an eternity. A moment captured in time, with the illusion of agelessness. As Jolene twisted her body, offered up sultry glances to her gawking audience, it felt like the clock couldn't move forward. Just as captivated by the woman's movements as Jackie was. The drink she'd been hankering for was forgotten as she stared at the woman preforming before them.

Then, for the briefest moment, Jolene glanced at her. It was no more than an actor's smile and wink but the tiny action set every single nerve in Jackie's body ablaze. She had not felt the heat rush to her face and turn her such a furious shade of red in years, but now she sat there flushed in the cheeks and flustered beyond belief because some pretty dame on a pole looked her way.

Feeling ridiculous Jackie did turn around for another drink and to her delight found one already set before her. Looking up she caught the bar boy's eye and he tossed her a smile himself. Suddenly Jackie found value in paying a beaten man even a shred of kindness. A value Frankie had been advocating for years much to her disinterest. She understood it a bit better now as she downed a glass of scotch and tried to forget about the pretty blue eyes of a call-girl.

Drink until you feel wobbly and then book it. Jackie told herself quietly. No reason to waste her time around this shindig anymore. She'd seen what there was to see and after she'd had a gutful she'd be gone. Hopefully returning before her brother or Reggie even knew she'd gone. And yet she didn't move an inch, listening to the sounds of a unruly crowd calling for Jolene's attention until the show ended. A new girl came on stage but Jackie spared her little more than a glance. Pretty young thing, bouncing breasts, wonderfully plump lips, a head of finely cropped black hair – and entirely unable to keep Jackie's attention. Her movements were that of a performance girl as well. Likely one that took to the pole far earlier than she had a real stage – good and smooth movements, but Jackie just couldn't fall into the pattern of her feet and so she stopped watching, calling up another drink instead.

What should have been a done deal by the fourth drink because a four-hour long wait. Girls came and went, the intermediate periods where no one would dance becoming Jackie's favorite times. If only because the joint became less occupied with everyone and there'd be a new drink in her hand before it finished. But she waited all that time and sure enough she saw Jolene return to the stage. Where she hadn't faced many of the girls between Jolene's dances, Jackie turned her back to the bar now to watch. A different dance this time, new movements and a totally different outfit pressed over her skin – but just as captivating as the last.

"Well I'll be damned…" Jackie breathed in disbelief. "I think Cohen just made a regular o' me…"

…

…

True to her assumption, Jackie found herself returning to Eve's Garden every time she knew Jolene would be taking the stage.

A few of the workers had picked up on her face. The bar boy she'd met that first evening certainly knew her by sight now and like any good bartender he knew exactly what she wanted, what time of night she wanted it when sometimes when she ought to stop wanting it so bad. Not that he ever bothered trying to put a stop to Jackie's drinking – that'd just be scratch out of his wallet. In a place like Rapture a gal that tipped was likely the best and rarest easy money to come into. Naturally it was treated much like a good drug deal, kept silent, swift and as covert as possible. Who woulda thought giving a kid a little bit of incentive to keep her drinks on time would be treated like such the scandal. Almost had Jackie enjoying the exchange more than she did the scotch.

Even the burly bouncer at the door had remembered her face. Admittedly this was likely due to their uncomfortable exchange the first go 'round. But it did make the whole thing a lot smoother when she wasn't forced to present her name every single time she came on by. If Jackie had to guess she'd say the only person that she saw each visit without fail that didn't recognize her mug was the gal she was coming to see in the first place.

Every visit Jolene was as divine as the last and each time Jackie got to see just a little bit of a different angle. A little more of her legs, a little bit of her chest – hell even the different ways her hair could be done up. Most nights it was left down, free and wild around her but sometimes when they went for a mockery of formality it could be pinned up before inevitably being torn back out while on stage. Jackie thought those instances were the most lovely, being able to see how the golden locks of hair slipped free under Jolene's fingers was damn near as intoxicating as when those same talented fingers would hook into the fabric of her coverings and pull just a little more away.

Although her frequent visits were something of a dirty little secret. She knew her brother was under no illusions as to exactly what kind of pretty little twist Jackie liked to have placed before her. But she also did not fancy telling him that she'd been making the trip to Fort Frolic so frequently. It was unusual for her Frankie to be as cagey as he'd been those past few weeks. She'd never dare think of him as paranoid or – dare she even think it – overprotective. But there was something to be said about the seriousness with which he insisted she keep a closer eye on her person and a fully loaded gun at her side.

These kinds of excursions were likely to fit right into his newest definition of 'reckless'.

Personally it all seemed rather overzealous to Jackie. As far as Rapture was concerned she was just a bookkeeper. Granted it was to a rapidly growing tycoon of industry, but still just a worker bee. There was no reason to get himself into such a twist, at least not yet. If Ryan started catching wind of her brother's less than legal inclinations things might just start heating up. But that was a matter of if and when – for now Jackie felt at ease wandering the streets of Rapture with just a pistol strapped to her hip.

Besides, it was more than worth the effort just to see Jolene take the stage again. That night was just like all the others. A new tight little number she was squeezed into and a whole new dancer pattern to follow. Although Jackie did notice a slight change. Jackie's movements were different, where they were usually elegant, practiced and preformed perfectly. Tonight they were a touch more wild, as though it was passion not practice that she moved with.

It took all of fourteen seconds for Jackie to realise why. "The god himself joins us." Jackie mused, eyes settling on the Andrew Ryan. Fancy that, he'd actually come to see the show. Perhaps all that talk of 'Ryan's favorite gal' was not all just a marketing invention.

By her shoulder, rag in hand and a cocked ear, was that ever vigilant bar boy. "Easy there, miss Wayne. Ya know how the big boss feels about kings and gods. Don't want to be stepping on no toes."

"Ya reckon so, Timmy?" Jackie drawled, eyes narrowed on Ryan with a thin smirk. "Well I reckon he's a king that don't feel the weight of his crown just yet."

By her side Timmy let out a helpless sigh, easing down onto his elbows so he could get a proper look at the blaspheming miss. "If you don't mind my saying so, that's awful bitter of you. The old man done something to rattle your cage?"

It was more a matter of family pride. He certainly stood to rattle Frankie's and so Jackie took issue with him on principle. In truth Ryan didn't seem to be the worst man to ever cross paths with her, not by a good long mile in fact. Actually, if she was to be agonizingly honest with her opinion of Rapture's creator – she thought him a far better man than either herself or her brother.

But a better man did not make him a good man. Certainly not when stacked up against a swindler and griffter.

Just as she was thinking perhaps she'd relent and give Timmy a word of surrender, Jackie's gaze slipped over to Jolene again where she danced as though the only eyes on her belonged to Ryan. Timmy followed her stare and snickered at her back.

"Fancy another man's dame?" Timmy asked, tone closer to that of a friend than a bartender. She'd watched Frank work people over the bar topside, he ain't never sound like little Timmy though. Never able to quite hit that note of genuine friendship – however he did come awful close and no drunk could tell the bleeding difference. "You've seen the posters, no man or woman getting much closer to that one."

Jackie mulled this over for longer than she ought to and then gave a careless shrug. "Just enjoying the sights Timmy." If that was said for her benefit or his she couldn't be quite sure. "How's the bar been?" The change of subject was definitely for herself. "Been treating you well?"

Judging by the discouraged snarl Timmy gave after the question was posed, Jackie would say not. Laughing she gave the poor boy a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Don't be letting them rick folk get under your skin, kiddo. Remember you got an advantage over them."

"Yeah? And just what that might be?"

"You're invisible." Jackie loved watching how those words were taken and thought over. Timmy didn't look entirely convinced, but there was a thought at the back of his skull now, that niggling little curiosity. She reckoned he'd take that thought and make something useful of it. "Besides, if you ever need a change o' scenery, Mr. Fontaine is always expanding, always hiring."

That and Jackie hadn't met a kid in Rapture that mixed drinks quite like little Timmy did, she'd like nothing more than to have him working somewhere nearby, a well made drink always available. She bet if she spun it right, even Frank would be onboard with the idea.

Letting that knock around Timmy's head for a while Jackie turned her gaze back on Jolene. Only issue now was that she was also paying a bit of attention to Ryan. Part of her still found it surprising that the man came to the place. He was just a man, clearly with plenty of needs of his own so she shouldn't have been surprised. It was just unusual to see someone so rich, so influential and stiff in his posture at a place like this. Perhaps this was how the bouncer had felt towards her that first night, well it felt just as baffling on her end.

The night dragged on and Jackie felt her mood turning sour the longer she was aware of Ryan's existence. It didn't escape her notice that Timmy had started bringing her a few extra drinks. If this boiled down to his attempt to smother her rotten temperament with alcohol or him jumping a chance to make a bit more money she couldn't care any less. They were a welcome distraction.

She'd been finishing off another glass when someone slid into the seat next to her. Were it not for the glass stuffed into her face, Jackie may have noticed the particular smoothness with which the person moved. It was a purposeful placement, damn near predatory and certainly the actions of someone doing something with an end goal in mind. Alas, it wasn't until the stranger spoke that Jackie even took notice of their presence.

"Wouldn't mind if I paid for your next one, would you?" It was a distinctly honeyed feminine voice that startled Jackie in that moment. More to the point it was one she recognized.

Eyes narrowed Jackie glanced over at the broad sitting next to her. A confident smile on her face as she looked right back at Jackie, awaiting an answer. Dark hair drawn back curls, a band around her throat, pencil think eyebrows and a gleam in her eyes – oh yes Jackie knew this one.

"Culpepper, isn't it?" She asked slowly, listening for any slurring in her words. She hadn't been going too hard that night but there was always a risk involved with these adventures. Hopefully what she heard was the truth of it, clean crisp and not at all the mumbling of a drunkard.

The answering smile was confirmation enough and Culpepper seemed to take Jackie's response as an approval as she called Timmy over. With another woman around he was right back into his serving mode and once given his marching orders was off to fetch them both a glass. Jackie noted with some suspicion that Culpepper had indeed ordered her scotch while getting something a little more fancy for herself.

That seemed just like the woman attached to that voice. Condescending in ever drawl of her words, why if Jackie were not so certain she was just as high and mighty as Ryan himself – she might have equated that tone to her own.

"Now what is a respectable lady such as yourself doing talking to a working class girl like myself, hm? In a place like this no less."

The scotch was set in front of her at record time and Jackie gave Tim a little questioning glance only to find him staring at Culpepper. Ah, a fan was he? Now that was downright precious.

Glancing back at the lady's face Jackie took a moment to once again appraise her. Definitely high quality goods this one, clear to see why Timmy was so infatuated. Jackie had heard her sing as well, listened to her tunes around the office and she did have to hand it to the dame – she had the voice of a blasted angel.

But looking at that sharp stare behind a lovely painted face, Jackie thought this one's wings might just turn out to be black.

Opting not to directly answer Jackie's question, Culpepper instead glanced over her shoulder towards the stage where Jolene was dancing. "Become something of a regular I've heard. At least when Jasmine is dancing."

"I'll be begging your pardon?"

"Not that I'm all that surprised mind you. Jasmine does attract certain types, I just hadn't expected yours to drop around quite so soon." Culpepper clarified with a flippant wave of her hand, as though it were all expected knowledge.

By now Jackie was flat out scowling at the songstress. Clocking the venomous expression Culpepper laughed. It was a lovely sound, the kind that settled deep inside one's chest, curling pleasantly. Were it not for the fact Jackie was positive the woman meant to chase her off she might have found the sound positively enchanting.

A cautious tip of her head and Jackie was looking back at the stage. Seemed like Jolene was wrapping up her dance, a bit more exhausted than she would have usually been. Likely pushing herself just that little bit too far for her favourite audience. Then her gaze was back on Culpepper, distantly thinking back to what Cohen had to say about her. They'd worked together in the past but clearly the relationship held a sour note to it. If Culpepper thought she was here under some kind of assignment at the mad artist's request she might as well be as crazy as he was.

"Well," Jackie began, voice a low hiss. "if my type offends your sensibilities you'd had better ship off. Rapture is a free city, miss, what I fancy is entirely my own business." As much as she loathe to throw around the Rapture's grandness argument – it fit like a charm here. After all where topside could she have watched the girls just as openly as any man?

At her unfriendly snarl Culpepper found it in her to laugh. "You misunderstand me." She announced but Jackie highly doubted that. "I take no issue with what you prefer in your bed at night. Just your particular choice of girl. Jasmine is a friend you see, and it's only in a girl's best interest to keep an eye out for her friends."

Ah, so that's what it was? Looking at Culpepper now Jackie could damn near see the protective attitude radiating off of her. Hadn't picked it at first, thought it was just hostility, but no that force was damn near maternal. "Come to warn me off have you?" Jackie mused, abruptly finding this to be all rather amusing. "Can't a girl just enjoy the sights without the big sister type stepping in to assert herself?"

"If you had a little brother or sister you'd understand."

Jackie's fingers tightened a fraction around her glass of scotch but no words were uttered in response. Instead she studied Culpepper just a little bit more closely. Hardly her type of woman, too shrewd for Jackie's own good and likely just as challenging – but damn if she wasn't a lovely thing to look at. Reluctantly Jackie had to overhaul her initial reaction to the singer.

The words would never pass through her vocal cords, but Jackie did find something charming about the lengths this woman would go to just to try and protect the little flower up on stage. Even more charming was the knowledge that it was all a moot point – she wasn't dancing on that stage for innocent eyes after all.

"Think you and me got off on the wrong foot, Culpepper." Jackie began slowly, raising her near empty glass a fraction, a small peace offering. "I don't mean no harm to your girl. Just like myself a show and a drink."

It was Culpepper that met her with a scrutinizing gaze now. Staring between the offered glass and the woman's lazy smirk. Likely thought she was a right foul little thing but lifted her own glass all the same. A small click passing as the nonverbal truce was set. "Call me Anna," She added the small correction. "If you would please."

Reckoned Culpepper already knew her name, wouldn't have sauntered on over here if she didn't. But let no one ever say Jackie forgot her manners. "Jaclyn Wayne."

With a thin smirk of her own Anna took a sip of her drink while Jackie downed the rest of hers. Likely from now on she'd not get a moments rest even within the club – knowing that Anna would be keeping an eye on her. Couldn't imagine what she thought Jackie intended to do with Jolene. A girl could be happy just watching after all.


	7. Josie

Now Jackie knew that Culpepper had some affiliation to Jolene, that was had been made painfully obvious, she expected the dancer to know she existed in some capacity. A warning from Anna if nothing else. 

What she had not been ready for was the sheer level of familiarity with which Jasmine treated her with upon their first actual interaction.

Jackie had prepared for another night of watching and drinking. Thinking nothing of it. She’d been so comfortable in her usual routine that she’d actually choked on her drink when the fluffy mess of a woman was suddenly flopping next to her, talking a mile a minute.

“—and Anna is such a sweet heart, isn’t she just? Oh! And look at your hair, it’s so soft. Is it naturally blonde? Ah, wait no don’t tell me. Every woman’s hair colour is natural isn’t it?”

Still reeling Jackie struggled to process the conversation that was happening in front of her. Jolene didn’t seem to need a responsive talking partner and just went right on ahead without so much as a ‘hello, how do you do?’

Eventually the star of Eve’s Garden took notice of her shell-shocked partner and smiled so sweetly that Jackie was sure all her teeth must have just rotted right then and there. “Where are my manners, I’m Jasmine – Anna already told me all about you.”

Breaking that statement down was a colossal effort. 

First and foremost – _of course_ she was Jasmine. Her blasted name was plastered all over the garden and Jackie had been in regular attendance for weeks. She damn well knew her name.

Secondly, this meant Culpepper had gone right ahead and gossiped about her, Jackie couldn’t even muster a forged sense of shock at this thought. She should have expected as much of the lyricist.

Third was Jolene’s tone itself.

Sugary just like that smile and were it not for the dopey, puppy look in her eyes Jackie may have been inclined to think this was done on purpose. Like some kind of ploy to drag in a slack jawed admirer. In fact Jackie found herself more jarred by the fact Jolene seemed to _mean_ it, had it been a façade she would have known how to deal with it more smoothly. Instead she was left just gaping at Jolene. Genuine kindness throwing her a curve ball she hadn’t been expecting.

Fourth and finally, there was the fact this conversation was taking place at all. This alone was baffling to Jackie.

How unusual it was to see the queen of the stage down here, exchanging words with one of her audience. It was only when Jolene blinked at her that Jackie realised this was actually happening and she was actually expected to give some kind of verbal response.

“Jaclyn Wayne.” She introduced herself, the words clunky and Jackie looked for her footing once again. “My name is Jaclyn Wayne.” The lie came out a little more smoothly the second time around and Jackie simmered down somewhat.

That’s right, she reminded herself, no reason to be so tense. This was just another lady.

Granted she was gorgeous and being little more than a meter away from Jolene’s sparkling eyes did nothing to diminish this fact. At this distance Jackie could see the dimples when Jolene smiled, a stray eyelash that had fallen against her smooth cheek and what may have been the most difficult thing to look away from, the dip between her breasts when she leant forward in her seat, wholly unaware of Jackie’s wandering eyes.

 _Granted_ Jolene was radiating heat and energy in spades and Jackie found herself being overpowered by Jasmine’s sweet perfume. Honestly it was all a bit much, how was a girl expected to process this assault on the senses. Certainly a bit of stuttering was forgivable after being waylaid by Jolene.

But this was hardly the first time Jackie had been seated across the bar from a pretty young thing and so she quickly slipped into an old, true and tried method of acting. With the cool smile came a familiar confidence and Jackie leant herself down against the bar, peering up at Jolene’s face all the while.

“Got quite a set of dancing feet there, love.” She said calmly, watching for the moment Jasmine would catch her tone. Would realise she was being lecherous.

Two things could happen when she did.

Either Jolene would express discomfort or disinterest and let the conversation drop dead. Or she’d take the bait and play right back. Should that happen Jackie fancied how the night was shaping up. She hadn’t had a roll beneath the sheets with someone quite so pretty in a good long while.

Except…neither of those things happened.

Instead Jolene beamed, positively lit up. “You think so? Oh truly?” She asked excitedly, bouncing a little bit in her seat. “Ma told me I was a dancer before I could walk. Said I’d be a star one day for sure. You really think I dance well? I was so nervous I thought my heart would pound right on out of my chest.”

Pushed a little off balance by the gleeful response Jackie tried to put her head back in its place. She’d had rough starts before, no problem. She could deal with this. “Of course, you looked lovely up there.” Jackie complimented Jolene smoothly, still able to feel the self-assured smile fixed on her face. “Been coming here for a while now, not another girl in the line up that moves better than you do.”

Jolene’s giggled. A sweet little sound but there was still no recognition of Jackie’s intentions. “Oh gosh, you’re too sweet.” Was what she said.

She…she wasn’t serious was she? 

Jackie could only stare at Jolene and sure enough found absolutely no hint that the woman recognized that Jackie was currently hitting on her.

Maybe it was simply a gender thing. Perhaps Jolene was as straight as they came and just didn’t understand that a woman could move on her like a man. Jackie held onto that thought and while it was disappointing, she knew there was nothing she could do if the lady didn’t fancy her own kind. That in itself was a rejection but no matter, Jackie was here to watch primarily. If she’d been able to talk Jolene backstage that would have been mighty sweet but it was never the end goal.

Dropping the attempt to sleaze her way into Jolene’s skirt, Jackie instead turned her attention back to the drink in her hand. “Used to dance myself, once.” She said, the words falling out a little too easily. It must have been the drink fogging up her head; she certainly had not sat down with one of Cohen’s girls to talk memories.

Just as she was ready to turn silent, expecting that to be that, Jasmine jumped on what she’d said with far more enthusiasm than what was strictly necessary. “You did? That’s wonderful! Would you dance with me one daym Jaclyn?” First name basis and an offer to dance right off the bat – was Jackie sure this gal was shooting straight?

Curious she peered at Jolene uncertainly but found her to be just as innocent in the eyes as a virgin schoolgirl. Figures. “Yeah.” She allowed with a careless shrug. “I’d dance with you one day, love. Don’t know how good my foot work is now days, haven’t worked the stage in years.”

“What kinds of dances did you do?” Jolene asked and Jackie found that her earnest curiosity was more endearing than any turn of those lovely hips. Been a while since someone actually just wanted a honest to god chat. Been even longer since someone actually listened to her answers.

Despite the disappointment that came with knowing a bit of bed play was off the table, Jackie saw nothing wrong with indulging in some pretty company and friendly conversation.

So she kept coming back to Eve’s Garden, coming more regularly. Even on the days that Jolene did not take the stage because she’d find the blonde there without fail. Always pleased to see her with a smile and more pleasant conversation awaiting her.

Jackie knew she’d be made pretty soon. She could already feel Frank’s side eye on occasion.

No doubt suspicious of her long absences and increase in drinking but not yet confident enough to confront his sister about it. Reggie sure as hell knew and while he reeked of discomfort, he wasn’t about to speak about her nighttime activities to Frank. 

But despite knowing Frank was getting wise, Jackie didn’t slow down her visits. It was stupid to be so enraptured with a gal that wasn’t about to put out but Jackie found her conversation to be the nicest she’d had since coming to Rapture.

Although somewhere around their fourth meet up Jackie realised it wasn’t just that Jolene liked men – she genuinely seemed to have no idea when someone was making a pass at her. This girl was a right moron but every time Jackie stepped foot into the place and met with her happy blue eyes – she found herself not at all bothered by how naive Jolene was. 

Most of their chats were just casual talking. Little nothing conversations. She told Jolene about her tiny stage days, nothing fancy and only half of the facts accurate. Couldn’t be saying anything incriminating now.

For her part Jolene lit up like a child on Christmas day. Talked a whole lot in a very short amount of time. Went on about her days topside practicing to be a star, the enunciation lessons that Ryan had so graciously paid for. Jolene then produced what Jackie reckoned was her genuine voice and the sound was so devoid of any subtly or sensuality that Jackie had to laugh. 

She laughed so hard that she choked on the scotch Jimmy had brought her. It choked her and the laughter became coughing before long. Jolene laughed at her in return and Jackie was sure she’d never actually cried from laughing before that night. But by the end of it she was wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes, grinning lazily as she glanced back Jasmine’s way.

“Don’t mean to laugh at you, love.” She wheezed, unable to help sniggering just a little more. “Just wasn’t expecting that voice to come out of ya.” She always had loved listening to Frankie try on different voices, it seemed she rather enjoyed Jolene’s performance as well.

Still smiling herself Jolene blushed looking bashful for the first time since she sat down next to Jackie. That expression sobered her up more quickly than any splash of cold water could hope to. Seeing that faint pink dusting carefully made up cheeks, giving them a glow to the woman’s already vibrant face. More and more Jackie was seeing that there were certain glimmers to Jolene’s person.

These little gems were obscured by flashy clothes and heavy make up most of the time, giving off the usual glamorous look the Eve’s Garden girls embodied.

They were her eyes when she laughed, bright and shinning with a innocent delight. They were the way she tittered and lost her polished voice for those few seconds of happy laughter. They were the blush on her cheeks that brought colour back to her face. They were the moment where Jolene was human again and not the dancer on stage.

And Jackie couldn’t seem to stop staring in those fleeting moments she could catch sight of those gems. This was…unusual.

It was to be expected that when Jolene was presented as otherworldly and perfect, dressed up, painted and dancing, that she’d be at her most desirable. But Jackie didn’t think she’d ever been more captivated by the woman than when she produced a full and genuine smile. 

“You don’t think I sound terrible?” Jolene asked slowly, looking shyly down to her hands. A woman that spent her nights captivating men had no right to appear so bashful.

Straightening up slightly Jackie caught Jolene’s eye with a hard start of her own. “Not at all, love.” This was the right thing to say and that pleased smile returned to Jolene’s face. Once it was there again Jackie too settled down back into a lull of quiet contentment. Happy to let the conversation continue. Jolene was more than happy to drive the subjects, talking excitedly about herself while also jamming in all kinds of questions that Jackie thought were quite childish.

Favoritue colour, yellow.  
Where were you born, topside - America.  
How old are you? Now a lady never tells.  
Any family? None down in Rapture.

So on and so on. Jackie answered smoothly but without fail Jolene would be asking another. She indulged her regardless. No skin off her back and then finally there was a question that did her reason to pause. 

“Should you really be drinking so much?” Jolene asked, sounding more concerned than judgmental.

In truth Jackie had lost track of how many drinks she’d had, more focused on what was coming out of Jolene’s mouth. But come to think of it she was pretty distant from her own skull. Not quite dizzy but she bet she would be when she tried to stand. Couldn’t walk a straight line if her life depended on it.

Frowning Jackie looked miserably down at her glass. Almost polished off this last one when Jolene asked. Jackie wondered idly how much money had been added to her tab that night alone and just how horrendous the ensuing hangover would be. Frankie was going to be positively gleeful the next morning, tormenting her with light and sound while her head was still pounding.

“Guess I let it get away from me just a little bit.” Jackie groused, lowering herself onto the bar with a heavy sigh. “I’ll be right as rain in the morning,” After the expected hangover had passed. “don’t you be worrying about me, Josie.”

“Josie?” Jackie frowned blearily when she caught a note of surprise in Jolene’s voice.

What had she said? Clearly she’d been a little more intoxicated than she’d first thought because she had managed to butcher Jasmine and Jolene into Josie.

“Is that me?” Jolene pressed and Jackie groaned pressing her forehead into the cool surface of the bar, not wanting to explain how her mind had managed to muddle up the woman’s name so bad. “Is that a nickname?” Jolene went on, squealing in delight as she came to her own conclusions. “Are we best friends now?” She asked excitedly and hell, Jackie had been coming to this wretched place every other day just to hear Jasmine speak – they might as well be best friends at this point.

“If you’re giving me a nickname we must be! Oh, oh! Can I give you one Jaclyn? What can I call you?”

“You damn child….” Jackie groused, reaching up to rest one hand heavily on Jolene’s head, satisfied as her silky blonde hair slipped right through her fingers. “You want to give me a nickname?”

This was dangerous.

Jackie’s remaining sanity informed her sharply, strangely enough it almost sounded like Frank’s voice in her head. This is dangerous and you’re being a fucking moron.

Ignoring that small sliver of sensibility left in her drunken mind, Jackie smiled a crooked smile and said. “Then call me Jackie.”

Her remaining fraction of common sense threw up its arms and gave up for the night.

But Jackie couldn’t regret her small act or idiocy when she saw Jolene’s face light up again. “Jackie.” She repeated, testing out the nickname and wholly unaware she’d be the only other person in Rapture that would be using her new friend's real name. “Always did like the name Jack for a little boy, Jackie has a nice ring to it.” She decided with a happy nod and it was unholy how pleasing it was to hear her name falling from those lovely lips.

“So I get to call you Josie.” She began slowly, summarizing their new deal. “And you can go ahead and call me Jackie. Like real friends.”

A friend huh. Now Jackie didn’t think she’d ever had her one of those. 

Well Rapture was the city of firsts if nothing else.

 

...

...

 

A city of firsts indeed.

Today presented another one. Considerably less enjoyable at that.

“And where is the man of the hour?” Jackie asked dryly, observing Reggie over the rim of her bottle.

The man looked uncomfortable and Jackie had to wonder if he was trying to lie to her or not. Reggie needed more time than herself or Frank to speak falsehoods, needed to right them in his head and practice them before he could deliver and even then – it was a stiff performance.

However he’d never been in the act of lying to either of his employers. Jackie must have caught him in the act maybe twice, both occasions an attempt to cover up some kindness he did not want spoiled. Frank had learnt that if he wanted to surprise his sister with anything – Reggie was not to know too far in advance. Discounting those fleeting moments of endearment, Reggie scarcely even attempted a fib.

So his hesitation now was curious. 

Reggie was too large a man to look so flighty. Fidgeting, shifting weight from one foot to the other restlessly – looking like a schoolboy heading towards a scolding. Well then…

Easing up out of her slouch on the lounge, Jackie tipped herself back onto the soles of her feet and up to her full height, still a good head shorter than Reggie. He tensed, looking nervously at the woman as she strode over to him. At the very least she hadn’t turned to the other way of approaching, stalking more than walking when something had properly caught her attention. Both his bosses had a habit of adjusting their walk habits according to situation. Most days Fontaine would strut around Rapture with all the ease and confidence of a king, but there were occasions where even he fell back into that predatory stalk that both siblings were able to replicate. Of course his was never quite like Jackie’s less fluid and misleading in its gentleness.

Small mercies Reggie decided as Jackie came to a standstill in front of him. Her sharp eyes scrutinizing him from head to toe. “Reg, sweet thing.” She cooed, voice just one note off of venomous. “Going to be honest with me aren’t you now? Would break a girl’s heart if you started telling fibs.”

There was a moment where Reggie’s body remained tightly coiled, trying to hold onto whatever resolve he’d built up but then Jackie placed a soft hand to his cheek a moment later he broke and all that tension went flooding out of him. Leaving the hulk of a man as little more than putty under Jackie’s fingers. “Be begging your pardon, ma’am.” Reggie mumbled into her palm. “The boss was really specific about this one…”

A cold chill rushed down Jackie’s spine at those words. The defeat in Reggie’s voice was not a sign of him collapsing to her influence, but rather resignation at being unable to do so.

An acceptance that he’d have no choice but to deny Jackie what she wanted on Fontaine’s orders.

This was…for a moment Jacket genuinely was at a loss. 

Never before had her brother ever barred her from anything and never before had he insisted on a secret between them. Certainly not using Reggie as his blockade.

Had something changed while her back was turned?

As if able to see her thoughts grinding to a halt in her head through her steely eyes, Reggie looked miserably at Jackie again. His calloused fingers tentatively grasping his boss’s smaller hands. “It’ll be alright, ma’am.” He murmured in what sounded like an effort to assure himself more than anything else. It was difficult to say if he truly believed that or not. “It’s not forever. The boss just wants to get everything in tiptop shape before showing. Ya know how much of a showman he is.”

With a meekly formed smile, Reggie gave her hands a little squeeze. “Just wants to impress ya, I’m sure. Won’t be forever I swear.”

Rough hands were the gentlest she knew Jackie realised distantly. Staring down at where her hands – tiny in comparison – nestled safe and secure in Reggie’s. She’d seen those hands do horrendous things, watched them break people but now they held her firmly. Offered a grounding force for those few moments and a comfort she did not deserve. These were violent hands being used tenderly to comfort and they were the most comforting thing in the world for those few seconds.

 And those delicate little hands cradled kindly between toughened muscle and strength, they could be the most vicious.

Sighing quietly Jackie allowed the tension to slide out of her shoulders. She noticed Reggie’s tense smile became more genuine as she eased into a less tightly coiled stance. Tiny hands held by a violent man’s hands – and he was the one that felt the most endangered.

Reggie deserved better she supposed.

Jackie had to wonder if she was truly going soft. Thinking about it now she couldn't help but be apprehensive about how readily Frank put Reggie into the path of what he must have known would be his sister’s explosive temper. If he was so willing to put Reggie there then the boys down at the fisheries and those few good enough to smuggle would be no safer from this sacrificial indifference.

“Hey, Reg?” Suddenly he was tense again, likely worried by how gentle Jackie’s voice had turned.

That too seemed fair, she was not know for forgiving or kindness and Reggie had watched her grow from a sneering brat to the woman before him today. He had the right to be concerned.

So when he neither fainted nor tried to flee when Jackie’s lithe fingers curled between his own in an alarmingly tender act Jackie was quietly pleased. “You’re a good boy, Reg.”

Perhaps his mama had never told him that, or maybe she had and the words meant something fierce to him because once again Reggie turned to goo in her hands.

Leaning into Jackie’s comfort just that little bit, almost too subtle to have been noticed were his hands not shaking slightly around her own. Poor man was such a tough one, done so much and seen plenty more – but he crumbled under even the slightest hint of tenderness from her. Considering his reaction to this, a kind word from Frank might have actually put him into an early grave.

Fortunately it was unlikely to happen so Reggie was safe from that fate if nothing else.

Allowing Reggie a few more seconds to bask in the small display of affection, Jackie let her own mind begin turning again. Now she’d never do anything to step on her brother’s toes but in the past he’d never been one to step on hers either. If he was to be keeping secrets – regardless of intention to one day tell or not – then Jackie would be more inclined to step out of line.

Come to think of it she still had that pest Wilkins wandering around shooting his mouth off. There was no better place to start looking for a cure to her frustration than that old Peach. “Be a saint and go ‘round up some of the spare lads for me, would you?”

First came confusion as Reggie processed the request and then a familiar glint of suspicion coupled with concern. Jackie made no attempts to sooth those worries and instead allowed a shark’s grin to fall onto her face. “Don’t you be fretting now, Reg.” She crooned, only serving to heighten his concerns. “Just going to have a little chat with the boys. Nothing insidious.”

“Ma’am.” And if that didn’t sound like a plea she didn’t know what did. “The boss don’t like you hanging around the fisheries anymore – you know that.”

Jackie could not fault her brother for that really.

The boys down at the fisheries were coarse, disgusting grunts at the best of times. But among them were a rare few that Jackie found rather endearing. Better still she knew that there were those in their ranks that would bend to her more willingly than they would Wilkins. “That’s why I have you, Reg.” Jackie reminded with a wicked little smile. “You’ll look after me, won’t you?”

Sighing Reggie gave up. Even if he could have denied her it would have done little good. “Ma’am I know I’ve said it before…but you and the boss have got to be worse than a pair of feral cats.” And Jackie couldn’t help but laugh in response to that.

Dear ol’ Reggie hadn’t said that since they were topside. It did her some good to hear the sentiment again, a fond reminder of old times.

“Come on Reg, this feral cat wants to play with some mice.”


	8. Business Sport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's ya southern boi

The feral cat that went looking for mice found herself being taken off guard by an unexpected fox.

Once back at the fisheries, Reggie tense at her side, Jackie found the place to be mostly unchanged. Fontaine's attention had switched to his newer investments as of late, but the smuggling ring that the fisheries barely concealed still remained a steady, reliable stream of cash and so it had not been entirely forgotten in light of the newest toy Fontaine had picked up. But there was a distinct paralysis to it now; a kind of stillness as though a snap shot had been taken of the place some months ago and not a thing had changed since.

The poor forgotten child of the family, left to keep puttering along while the parents cooed at the new shiny-faced babe. Jackie thought she might as well inject some life back into the place and so the moment she arrived she sought out familiar faces to start with.

It took no time at all to locate the miracle boy, still looking as energetic as a youngster and about as smart as a sack of bricks – tossing around some crates with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.

The return of function to his hand put him into high spirits where as most the other men were just slugging through another day. He brought a bit of resentment onto himself by being so damn sprightly everyday, even now Jackie could see another of the boys, a young man by the name of Jerry with a mouth full of white pearls, leering at Stiffy as though he'd taken a piss in his scotch.

Today things seemed to be moving at the usual pace and Jackie noticed a distinct lack of Peach. Curious, usually he was down there to bark at the boys. Suspicion began to twist inside of her chest and briefly her eyes slipped over to Reggie, sure enough he looked uncomfortable.

So wherever her brother had slipped off to that day he was likely with Wilkins. She'd consider that later, for now it gave her free reign to chat with the lads without Peach giving her the stink eye.

It was one of their youngest that noticed her first. "Oh! Miss Wayne." A baby faced boy that had no right to be holding onto his youthful looks while slinging boxes all day long perked up at the sight of her and Reggie. Or rather he smiled upon spotting her and then quickly dropped the expression when he noticed Reggie's massive form by her side.

Fontaine's right hand man might as well have been the hand used to hold the stick with so to speak, the boys had learnt early on not to test boundaries with either Fontaine or Reggie.

Although many of them still tested their limits with her.

As the blonde lad, Sammy. G if Jackie's memory served, recoiled nervously another voice took up the baton. His initial greeting having caught the attention of a few of the other boys. "Ma'am." A steely voice addressed her, only the slightest hint of caution behind the civil tone. "Something we can do for you today?"

Jackie took a moment to size up the second man, she distantly recognized him. Eddie was a sturdy chap with an expression like someone was constantly delivering a joke that failed to amuse. Such a young man to be so cold, like he'd never had much to smile about as a toddler and not attempted to learn now that he was grown. A bit of a shrew but not at all a bad kid, Fontaine had snatched up plenty like him from the Drop.

Place was barely even good enough to be called a slum and there were a good number of young lads down on their luck that were more than happy to make 'a good honest living' working under her brother.

Young Eddie here was one such man and Jackie knew he was running with the smugglers more than he was the fisheries. Looked like it stepped on every ethic his dear ol' ma and pa taught him – but he rolled up his sleeves and did it all the same. Jackie fancied that attitude, and so she fancied having Eddie around, even if he looked about as warm as a glacier.

She wanted him on her payroll so to speak.

Clever boy was smart enough to take her offer when she'd put it forward. Some of the lads were a bit dicey when it came to this whole allegiance business. They gave up Peach in a heartbeat most days, but Fontaine? Oh-ho, not on their lives. Fortunately that was not Jackie's game.

"Seen Timmy around today, kiddos?" She asked, peering around for the second boy currently under her belt.

Timmy still made a killer drink at the bar most nights but Jackie had managed to drag him down to their little slice of heaven a few times. If Cohen didn't pay his bartenders better she'd have them all before long.

"Not today, ma'am." Eddie grunted, heaving another large fisheries box up onto the growing pile before dusting off his hands and facing Jackie. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of the man this week." Judging by the way Eddie was sizing her up he expected this to somehow be her doing.

Jackie was yet to decide if he was giving her too much credit or not enough to think that every little thing she did somehow played into some greater scheme.

Perhaps he'd mistaken Jackie for her brother for a moment.

"Crazy that one." Jerry announced with a lazy roll of his shoulders, the most disgusting hawking sound coming from his throat as he spat into the shallow water by the fishery docks. "Shouldn't waste your time with 'im, Jaclyn." White toothed Jerry's voice suggested he knew some better company and Jackie highly doubted she'd agree. So his comment was brushed off all but immediately.

Although sweet ol' Reg didn't seem too happy with Jerry's tone and Jackie had to give his shoulder a little pat to assure him that Jerry was just talking again. He was all hot air in the end. "What do you need Timmy for?" Eddie pressed following suit and ignoring Jerry. Now Jackie knew she was definitely flattered by his assumption she had ill intent. She did like the sharp ones – a fatal flaw she and Frankie shared.

"Just checking in on my favourite boys is all. Nothing wrong that now is there?" She offered. Eddie didn't bite.

"Information collecting more like." He groused and in retaliation Sammy punched his shoulder a silent 'what the hell are you doing, you buffoon' gesture. If it was made out of affection for Jackie or fear of what might get back to Fontaine was a fifty-fifty.

All Jackie knew for certain that of all the boys she'd gathered - Eddie was by far her favourite with that distrustful glare.

Then there was a call. "Eddie!" And Jackie got to see what it looked like when the man jumped on someone's' call other than her own.

Curious she turned, following Eddie's stare to find a stranger standing there beaming. His clothes were clean and his smile dazzling – which automatically put him at odds with the rest of their gathering. He was not the sort to be loitering around the fisheries, too thin to be hauling anything himself. But he seemed to know their Eddie.

Eddie's mossy eyes looked cautiously behind the approaching man as though he expected the devil on his tail but gradually a tentative smile eased onto his face and he returned the newcomer's greeting with a welcoming one of his own. "Warren." he greeted and although his tone held some kind of warmth for the other man, there was an undeniable note of weariness behind it.

He clasped hands with the enthusiastic youngster before looking to the rest of their gathering.

"This here is Warren Castro." He introduced the eagerly waving young man and Jackie had to fight a little smile of amusement. A bright spark like this kid was likely to get snuffed out pretty fast in a place like Rapture. Probably best he didn't spend too much time around this watering hole.

Still, if he was around Jackie wouldn't mind seeing if she could recruit him.

The stare Eddie was giving her over Warren's turned back said she could forget that idea if he had anything to say on the matter. How lucky for her he certainly did not. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Castro, Jaclyn Wayne." She smiled sweetly when offering her hand but was a little taken aback by how friendly the answering smile from the young man was as he took it. Oh Christ, not another saint – wasn't Jasmine enough?

"Please, please." He laughed brightly. "Just Warren is fine. I'm not actually here on business today."

"Business?"

At this Eddie shifted restlessly, it was a novelty seeing him uncomfortable. One that didn't feel worth indulging if it meant something was going wrong.

Before he could supply an explanation, Warren gave reason to his unease.

"I work for Sinclair Solutions, been around the fisheries once or twice on Mr. Sinclair's behalf."

Reggie must have been the only one that noticed the slight shift in Jackie's demeanour, likely because he too changed upon hearing this little tidbit. "Sinclair Solutions huh?" She repeated, tone curious even as her eyes turned hard behind the pleasant smile. "Whatever would an information broking company want with our little slice of heaven?"

Warren jumped to correct her and it might have been endearing had Jackie's mind not been a thousand conversations over from the one he thought they were sharing. "Oh it's not as simple as information trade, ma'am." He told her excitedly. "Mr. Sinclair has been setting up shop all over Rapture, the toy line is already practically overflowing with orders and the Spirits chain is very successful."

Yes, Jackie was aware – she frequented that particular chain.

Wholly unaware of the icy air around his less than enthused talking partner, Warren went on to add. "But Mr. Sinclair isn't looking to expand into the fisheries, no, no. Mr. Fontaine seems to have that business very thoroughly covered – I think he's only after a word with the man."

"A word?"

"Yes, quite. We parted ways back at the office – although I'm not sure Fontaine was there."

Jackie might as well have been chiseled from stone she was so deathly still – reminiscent of her agonized hang over not long enough ago to be mercifully purged from her memory.

"Reg, sweet thing?" She checked in with the lump of a man briefly. When he responded that Fontaine was definitely not around the fisheries that day her mind was abruptly made. "In that case I ought to see what our guest might need." Her smile was all teeth and spite by the time she announced this, but poor Warren didn't seem the least bit aware of her mood shift. Over his shoulder Eddie had gone nearly as still as she had momentarily been.

"You boys behave yourself." She added taking a step away with a telling hand on Reggie's shoulder. "Reg here will keep an eye on things, won't you dear?"

Reggie nodded mutely and Jackie spied his hand lingering around his left side, just above where his pistol was neatly tucked away. Warren still did not seem to understand that he was the one being watched. Eddie did however and Jackie noted that his gaze spoke of murder. Only it was directed at her – she pocketed that piece of information fro the time being.

Perhaps their boy of ice was not nearly as callous as he made himself out to be. She knew she was right to favour him so highly.

Stepping away from the group Jackie made a beeline for the fisheries office. Frank was rarely in it now days, rapidly looking into expanding to better places. He'd even remarked on how the original and now very much dead Fontaine had complained about the smell of fish getting to him before the unfortunate end to his days as Fontaine. He was beginning to empathize with the poor bastard's frustration.

Only so much fish a man could take, he'd said, which was exactly why they had the boys smuggling in red meat but that was very much beside the point. Although for once Jackie found herself leaning to her brother's stance as a visionary – if only it meant they got the hell out of the fisheries and into a nicer place. He'd been looking into apartments in Mercury Suites.

Jackie said he was gunning too high too soon – Frankie said he was making a point.

They both agreed they'd never eat fish again.

Still Jackie had grown rather used to their little office set up and so it was no small level of territorialism that she jarred the door open today. Expecting an intruder but not quite expecting the unwelcome guest to look quite as at home as he did.

"You know." Sinclair began in a laidback manner, the southerner's drawl not the slightest bit hurried. As though he had all the time in the world to waste in a place that was not his to squat. "Never did think I'd see a boat this deep under the sea, unless it was sunk." He remarked, eyes flicking to the little portside window towards the docks where sure enough a boat bobbed innocently. 'Just enough of home' Frankie had told Ryan once. "Of course." Sinclair went on with an easy smile. "Never thought old Andy would approve of this little set up Fontaine has here either. Wonders all 'round, what else when in Rapture."

A small click of his zippo lighter felt thunderous in the silence of the office. Even the bustle of the fisheries outside gradually sapped away, leaving only the dark space of the four walls around them and as Sinclair lit up a cigar at his leisure the glow of its smoldering end became the brightest spark in the room.

At least until he smiled, looking over his shoulder at his unfavorable but captive audience – then it was the fox's grin that became the sharpest edge in the office.

"Rough day?"

Rough life she was beginning to suspect.

Closing the office door shut tightly behind her Jackie attempted to work through all several thoughts of blood that rushed through her head in that moment. "Mr. Sinclair I take it." She greeted crisply, getting little more than an acknowledging bow of the man's head. Somehow this only served to further fuel her frustrations. "Well this is an…unexpected pleasure."

Warily Jackie held her hand out to Sinclair. A formality that seemed to surprise the businessman somewhat. Regardless he took her outstretched palm, an amused smirk flashing across his face before settling into a more idle smile once again.

"Oh yes, where are my manners. It'd make my dear ol' ma weep if she knew I'd forgotten my manners in the presence of a fine young woman such as yourself." There was absolutely nothing apologetic about his tone and Jackie caught a hint of mischief behind those coffee rich eyes.

"Augustus Sinclair, and you must be miss Jaclyn Wayne. Heard quite a lot about you down at the watering hole. Oh, well I suppose this would be considered the actual watering hole now wouldn't it?"

They'd have gathered the same number of mosquitoes as one. Of all the creatures that found their way into Rapture – it had to be the leeches. Perhaps Ryan had a point when he went harping on about parasites.

With a tight smile Jackie watched her tongue carefully as she spoke. "Yes, I suppose. But we don't get much in the way of gossip coming through the fisheries." The boys would not dare. "So mind sharing where whispers of me were reaching your? I can't imagine they're all that interesting. I only mind the books."

"And the workers it would seem." Sinclair ventured, gaze moving back towards the window. "Got them well trained by the look of it."

"Trained." She repeated airily, sure that the grinding of gears inside her skull must have been audible when she opened her mouth. "That's a rather…malignant way to phrase it, wouldn't you say?"

"Not at all." The man had no right to sound so jovial in that moment. "A ma teaches her boy to behave with a spoon on the backside after all. Although I imagine the cane around these parts to be a touch more substantial." Jackie sensed the metaphorical bullet before it really came. But she tensed when it hit all the same. "Ever hear what happened to – what was his name again – Elias I believe?"

She did. Hard to forget a face when it got that bloated. She'd never seen what happened after a man got drowned – although Jackie hadn't been there when Frank held the poor blighter's head under the water till he stopped kicking.

Even if she had been – it'd only be to provide the occasional commentary.

It was just what happened when people thought they could get a little too bold with her Frankie. Elias was an idiot – if he'd played his game a little safer he'd still be breathing. But now his name was back on the table and Jackie thought him more dangerous in death than life. "Elias?" She repeated, as if testing the name out to see if it stuck. "As in Peter Elias? I haven't heard so much as a peep from him in weeks. Are…are you saying something happened to him, Mr. Sinclair?" Not wanting to bother following that lie up with an answer Jackie hastily went on to try and close the topic. "Actually please do not tell me. As unfortunate as that might be – I'm afraid I barely knew the man. I'd rather not know if something bad did happen."

He supplied an easy answer. "As I hear it Elias was one of your boys.

If every muscle in Jackie's body had not already been locked tight enough to just crack at the slightest provocation already, those words would have done the trick. "And that the poor old boy got a little caught up in things that would send Ryan into a fit." She felt the first crack on her face, the moment when her wiry smile turned just that bit too icy and became truly lethal.

Where Jackie's eyes must have been little more than sheets of icy blue – Sinclair's were positively gleaming. Shinning with the same mirth he smiled with. It occurred to Jackie that the game Sinclair was playing was not nearly as perilous for him as it had been for Elias. He was playing fast and loose and they both knew it. Now she just wondered why he was so flippant with it.

"That right?" The gears might not have been giving her away out loud, but her voice certainly was. Her polish thinning the longer Sinclair wore at it, revealing the coarse accent underneath. "No boy of mine would ever get mixed up in business like that."

Shit.

Jackie realised a second too late the little hole she'd dug herself and momentarily sent every curse under the sun Frankie's way simply because he never would have said something so clumsy. She'd never claimed to be above pettiness. That and it was his hands that held Elias's face under the water just that little bit too long.

Knowing she'd spoken too hastily and confirmed Sinclair's assumptions – not that that they really needed her confirmation to begin with – about her little ring of followers, Jackie opted for a new approach.

Honesty. Never thought she'd see the day.

"Exactly what do you want, Sinclair?" She demanded, all pretenses of pleasantry dropped dead. "I got a nice little thing going here and Fontaine is going to have my ass if he thinks my…" A pause, slight amusement and finally vindication. "...hobbies, are going to put some kind of bad shine on his business, heads are going to roll and you better believe it won't just be mine on the chopping block."

Flicking away the gathering of ash at the butt of his cigar, Sinclair moved himself out from behind the desk – her brother's desk, which he acted as though belonged to him instead – and strode on over to the small window he'd glanced out earlier. All too casual in the way he leant against the wall and peered out into the docks.

"The truth for a truth." Sinclair remarked, startling Jackie with how easily he'd given her an answer.

The wonderfully wretched thing she'd come to know about Sinclair through both this brief encounter and every bad word on the street about the man, was that his words were important.

Frankie was much the same. He too relished in hiding small truths among all his lies, just to have a private reason to smile when an idiot took the bait. It was dangerous fun and unfortunately the only kind he truly enjoyed.

Sinclair was no different, the wording mattered. Things like 'common sense' were thrown to the wind when he could talk circles around people. Creating verbal loopholes faster than a lawyer could write them.

A truth he'd said.

The truth for a truth.

With a leisurely sigh Sinclair let more smoke into the air before going on with his train of thought. "The truth is dear old Andy Ryan isn't the fondest of this set up here. Swings between singing your boss's praises and cursing his name – sometimes in the same breath. And me? Well I'm just an honest man out to make a dollar."

Turning from the window Sinclair looked her way and for once Jackie was genuinely alarmed when he looked at her. His eyes did not wander, nor did they soften as so many did once turning onto her. They stayed level and sharp – the way he would have looked at any other businessman. He was looking at her and seeing her – and Jackie was frozen by it.

"Ryan asked me to look into the affairs down here, and on the record Warren has already come to call. Off the record…well." He chuckled, hands stretching out just slightly in a 'here I am' gesture. "Everyone knows Fontaine is smuggling, you can practically smell it in the air, despite all the fish. But there's not a piece of hard evidence and your boss is very good at being in the right place at the right time. So here's my offer-"

"Let me stop you right there." Jackie cut in sharply and seemed to have genuinely taken Sinclair off guard for a second. Good, he'd done that more than enough to her in the space of half an hour. "If you're going to ask me for some dirt on Mr. Fontaine you're barking up the wrong tree. Listen here, Sinclair. There's a lot of things I'd do on this earth – not half of it any good – but ratting out the man paying my bills and keeping clothes on my back? Not a chance."

"Loyalty is it?" And now the way he said that it sounded as though he could not decide if that trait was commendable or simply boggling in its stupidity.

"Logic." Jackie shot back with a thin smile. "You're a businessman, you of all people understand the cost of a good position. Fontaine sinks and I'm left without an employer. I don't fancy Paupers Drop now do you?"

Jackie talked big and likely Sinclair knew it. But there was truth behind her posturing. Jackie would never turn on her Frankie and so Jaclyn would never turn on Fontaine. Simple as that.

For a moment there was nothing. A reprieve from the man's voice that Jackie had wanted so badly but now it was here she didn't know what to do with. In the absence of words there was silence and in that there was thought. Specifically Augustus Sinclair's. He thought and Jackie remained tense, waiting to see what he would do with this specific truth.

Briefly her mind flew back to Cohen who had so easily managed to play her the first time she met. Although for his efforts he'd fallen short of his end goal and Jackie hadn't ended up on one of his stages. Instead she'd developed and unhealthy attraction to a star of his and even gone so far as to ignore her brother's warnings to keep that obsession fed. So perhaps it had been damaging all the same.

Now she stood her playing what equated to a verbal chess game with the man behind Sinclair Solutions and Jackie genuinely began to wonder if she'd come away a loser by default in this match to.

Finally Sinclair sighed, the sound followed quickly by an innocuous little hum and smiled once again. "You are a tough nut, love." He announced. "But I respect where you're coming from. So, let me offer this instead. A little partnership between you and I."

This game, strictly speaking, was not Jackie's arena.

Frankie was the one that cut these sorts of deals and played with men like Sinclair and Ryan. He was a creature of different tastes; he liked his games to consist of money and weighted deals. Jackie preferred the one that required no books and couldn't be won when the poor sap found himself broke but rather when one of them was broken. Emotional consequences outweighing the material gain.

Jackie might have pulled Sinclair into one of her lover's games were she not positive he'd played too many of his own already and like herself had no real devotion to a lover. His love seemed to be the payday and Jackie's happened to wear skirts – so more likely than not they'd come away with a tie and Jackie preferred a decisive victory.

But Sinclair made her want to try her hand a new kind of game.

That in of itself was dangerous. She should have declined, should have fallen back onto the usual act. Make some vague threats and promises to tell her boss about this visit – that would have been the right move to make. Right, but boring.

Of all the things Jackie had come to despite about Rapture, the creeping boredom was among the most intolerable of them.

And so despite her better judgment, Jackie just had to bite.

"A partnership?"

"Precisely. The soft kind, I scratch your back you don't claw mine off sort." Sinclair was still smiling but it had shifted slightly. For a moment Jackie thought he did not look quite so predatory and this was her first clue that he knew he was close to winning. Sugar and vinegar she supposed. Still, he had her attention. "Those boys of yours, they're an affront to my business if we're being honest. Do what I pay my men without the cost. You can imagine my despair." Yes, she thought that if he could find a way to pay people practically nothing, Sinclair would in a heartbeat. "I digress, the point is what doesn't find its way to me will no doubt find its way to one of your lads. I heard you picked up the newest one from Cohen's payroll?"

Before she could help herself Jackie groaned. "Now how do you know that? Where are you getting these sorts of pieces of gossip?"

And once again Sinclair's smile was predatory. "Well that my dear I won't share, but here's what I will. You part with me the little pieces of 'gossip' your boys bring you and I'll part with my own. Not sources of course, a man had to keep some of his mystery to remain appealing doesn't he? But the information I'll graciously trade for yours. Fair's fair."

Jackie pondered his offer. It was deceptively balanced when he stated it like that. More quid pro quo than it was any kind of binding contract. Her boys were quite good at being flies on the wall and Jackie had been looking into collecting a few more from different locations in Rapture, expanding in a sense.

Why?

Well...Jackie truly did loath the boredom.

Mulling this all over for a few moments Jackie's gaze gradually slipped back over to Sinclair who made no attempts to rush her. Instead he was enjoying the silence and his cigar while looking out the porthole and into the fisheries. He'd sent that boy of his in already and Frank no doubt knew all about it, but Jackie wondered if he'd know about this visit before she told him about it. If she told him about it how long would it be before he knew?

They kept no secrets...but Frankie wasn't here. Jackie didn't know where he was. Now that didnt sound fair at all to her.

"One rule." She announced finally and Sinclair's expression was something positively stunning once he knew he'd gotten his way.

"Name it."

"I won't give you any information about Fontaine."

Sinclair was unsurprised clearly but still decided to test the extent of her loyalty as he'd called it. "I take it you won't be asking after information on him either? Or does this ban exist only on your end?" He made note of her borderline childish behaviour as though it might appropriately chastise or shame her. But Jackie had never shied away from the fatal flaws of her person. Her own ugliness was internalized, so she paid it very little thought.

Jackie opened her mouth to say as much but then hesitated. Surely she'd never need to ask after any information to do with her brother, none he wouldn't willing part with her if asked himself.

But she didn't know where he was.

"Feel free to refuse to tell me as punishment for not parting with any information on him myself." Jackie said instead, and made a point not to look at the amusement on Sinclair's face. "But nothing on the boss from my end." Jackie asserted, refusing to break that rule. "Don't bother asking because no matter what I hear my lips are sealed. Same goes for my boys."

"Yes." Sinclair mused. "I imagine they'll be about as talkative as our old friend Elias."

Jackie understood the implication but smiled all the same.

They had a deal.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Sinclair."


	9. Audio Diary - Boy’s Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might as well add in these little things too.

The smugglers hide out was a wreck. But even in the debris, there was the occasional audio diary still intact. One had been jammed into a barrel, lodged deep at the bottom and likely there for some time. Forgotten for years after it’d been put there.

“ _My brother…who ain’t even my brother as far as Rapture knows – is one hell of a storyteller. But hell if he don’t get that from me_.”

The voice of a female plays through the box. Exasperated and just vaguely amused as she spoke.

“ _I find myself indulging in this little recording box far more than I ought to. But Frankie gave me these things for a reason I suppose, likely knows I like telling my own stories as well. This hole fills up with new boys every day. Fontaine brings ‘em in fast. The dissatisfied and disgruntled, all willing to work for a pretty penny and even a sliver of kindness_.”

A sigh that was supposed to be a laugh broke the string of words for a moment and when the voice returned, she did so audibly more weary than before.

“ _Frankie’s boys ain’t the brightest bunch. I tell ‘em my last name’s Wayne and that I run the books - they all stop asking why I’m allowed where they ain’t. Morons likely think I’m a bed warmer as well as a PA. I’d knock it outta their heads but they’re too busy buying into the ‘sweet pretty lady protects us from ol’ Peach’s bitching’ bit. Don’t want to disillusion them_.”

Anger gave away to a thoughtful pause.

“ _Still…they’re not exactly indispensable. I wonder if Frank would be put out if a few went afloating…”_  

The audio cut off sharply, the static hanging in the air a few seconds after that thought was spoken.


	10. Matching Eyes

Poor Reggie had been practically worrying through his cuffs by the time Jackie finally rejoined him. Her mood having improved considerably since he first lost sight of her. And when he'd been eager to get her back to her den and well away from that Sinclair fella, Jackie went without a fuss. Although she now observed Reggie's mother hen behaviour with a new found distrust. If he was aware of this shift Reggie gave no such indication and instead overflowed with unspoken relief to see she was alright and her mood better than previously. That and there didn't seem to be any blood to clean up.

"Reg, darling," Jackie began sweetly, almost able to see the exact moment where Reggie's relief came full circle to anxiety again. "Be a doll and tell Fontaine I won't be around this evening won't you?"

"Ma'am..." Reggie pleaded without saying the exact words. Using his tone and those normally steely eyes of his turned soft to beg. It was actually rather endearing but it did nothing to make Jackie want to change her mind. If anything it was little more than the icing on top of the cake. Smiling with enough sugar to rot a mouthful of healthy teeth Jackie tenderly pat Reggie's cheek. "Don't wait up, sweetheart."

With that she made a beeline for Cohen's fun house.

As much as one could make such a path through underwater tunnels and transports that was. She's gotten rather good at getting to Eve's garden in remarkable time as of later. No matter where she was in Rapture Jackie could have pointed out the easiest, fastest way to that particular establishment.

Would have made good time had she not been waylaid by one of the lads on the way there. Jackie had no time for whatever shiny-toothed Jerry had to say. His offers of extra company had gone beyond being entertaining and now landed squarely in the range of intolerable and so when she brushed him aside for the tenth time it was without a shred of kindness to soften the rejection. It was difficult to feel particularly generous with him when he was distracting Jackie from the real object of her affections.

Now she could have probably put an end to Jerry's pestering with a comment on which team she was batting for, but other than that little detail ruining some of her personal con, Jerry would likely flash those pearly whites and suggest he join. As if he could somehow add anything by virtue of his genitals. A hard pass Jackie decided.

But finally she was free of that bleached set of teeth and found herself meeting with a more welcome sight. Good ol' Timmy mixing her a drink while her favourite gal danced up on stage. Yes, this was exactly what she needed after dealing with that fox Sinclair.

"Still haven't handed in your resignation I see." She commented while sliding into the usual seat at the bar.

Timmy's answering smile was caught somewhere between sheepish and mirthful, still testing the waters there it would seem. She actively encouraged his more impish streak. "Still dragging in enough money to stay a bit longer." He shrugged, passing Jackie a fresh glass without being asked. God he could be a real lifesaver some days. "Thought you ought to start a bit stronger tonight." Timmy went on tossing a purposeful glance back towards the main sitting area. "I hear Ryan might be joining us common folk this evening."

Abruptly Sinclair's claims of her boys being a good set of ears seemed valid and Jackie took a hefty swig of the concoction that Timmy had whipped up for her. He was right, she'd need it.

Uttering a quick word of thanks along with the usual tip and request for anything to do with Cohen's business, Jackie let the boy get back to his day job. Last time he'd come back to her with some information on Miss M's line doing something or another to offend Cohen's sensibilities. Which likely meant she'd be looking to buy from the woman from now on. As well as some new artist turning down Cohen's offers of showcasing, not a big enough splash to have a name for himself just yet but Timmy promised to keep an ear out. Anything to get Cohen's fany knickers in a twist.

Likely Timmy would not be keeping this job much longer and Jackie was willing to admit she'd miss the kid behind this bar, but he'd make use of himself elsewhere - no great loss in the long run.

Then sure enough as she sat there making short work of the first drink, their lord and master came to call.

Jackie's stare was venomous as she watched Ryan enter the garden. Some tiny locked away part of her understood the pointlessness of her aversion of Ryan. But she did nothing to try and dampen the heated dislike that sparked inside of her the moment he came into her sight.

What made it worse was the begrudging respect she might have also held for him. The sort of respect that she'd never share with Ryan himself or her brother. Because she currently sat in his city, the dream he'd made a reality without betraying or killing anyone to get his way. They'd accomplished less and bloodied their hands far more – of course she hated Ryan for making progress in a different way. All the while he stood between Fontaine and what had become the only thing he desired.

On principle alone she must hate Ryan, for her brother's sake if nothing else. Part of her still wondered why Frank never attempted to erase Ryan. All these schemes and games, but never once had the thought of simply stopping Andrew's heart dead in his chest ever come out of her brother's mouth. He spoke of victory as though Ryan would be there to bear witness– perhaps that was exactly what he needed. To have Ryan see the moment he lost. Jackie would have rather they have been a little more practical than theatric in this regard. But Frankie wanted Ryan to see and so Jackie's hands were tied.

However, all that she could have forgiven had he just not had the same eyes as she did. Eyes that he currently only had for Jasmine up on that stage.

Over the rim of her glass Jackie's harsh stare shifted just slightly. Following Ryan's gaze across the floor to the stage where Jasmine danced her heart out. As always she worked that little bit harder when Ryan was spectating.

Silver lining, Jackie was able to see that extra energy as well.

"You really shouldn't look at Mr. Ryan like that." Timmy's cautionary voice murmured at her back. He always warned her against her open hostility. He was right of course, but Jackie couldn't seem to find it in her to stop. How her brother veiled his true thoughts on Ryan was beyond her.

Glancing down at the remainder of her drink as it sloshed around miserably at the bottom of her glass Jackie remarked. "What's he going to do? There ain't no laws against disagreeing with Ryan. Not even a prison to put me in if there were."

Funny that Jackie thought. Where did Ryan expect to put her brother and his smugglers if he ever caught them? Fortunate for him, Jackie thought smirking as she downed the last of the burning drink, they'd never be clever enough to find out.

As if he had some kind of second sense for traitorous thoughts, Ryan's attention momentarily shifted. How it managed to be torn from Jasmine for even a moment was genuinely a mystery. And when his eyes met with hers it took every ounce of self-control to not form a rude gesture with her hand and instead lift her glass slightly. Behind her she could practically hear Timmy's spine snapping up straight followed by a quiet hiss of, "What are you doing?" He was a skittish one.

"Being friendly." Jackie answered through the plastered on smile that dropped the moment Ryan was no longer looking. "Would look bad for the boss if I weren't civil with our owner."

Sighing heavily Timmy slumped against the wooden counter, eyeing his rather questionable employer. She put more money in his pockets than Cohen ever had and Fontaine's business looked able to double that, but the trade off was this. This looming headache and sense of dread coiling in his stomach. He no more wanted to see Ms. Wayne in strife than he wanted to get strung up himself. "If this is your idea of friendly I'd hate to see what you consider unfriendly to look like."

"A grave."

Timmy choked expecting to see Jaclyn follow up with a smile or joke but there was nothing. A little shiver raced down his spine as Timmy recalled that why yes, this was Fontaine's right hand gal. He forgot on occasion, when she'd look at him and smile in a way that seemed soft – genuine.

Perhaps he'd made a mistake agreeing to her offers.

The urge to reassure himself was nearly overpowering. Nervous questions passed through his head, little queries that might have comforted him to hear answers to fake or not. It was a weakness he knew and so Timmy tried not to speak and instead focused on cleaning the glass that no longer needed his attention. Just to keep his hands busy and his mouth shut. One of these days he'd dig himself a hole too deep to climb out of if he kept speaking out of turn.

Cautiously he glanced back up to Ms. Wayne's back. Her attention firmly on the stage and the man that inspired a rather stunning level of hatred in her. He could only watch as the red glow of the garden lights bounced off of that face, catching in her eyes only to deepen the level of contempt shinning back at them. The garden was made to illuminate deep guttural human desires and emotions – they had not been thinking of unadulterated loathing when they rigged up those bleeding colours. Were it not so frightening Timmy might have marveled in how beautiful it was.

He could not risk trying to comfort himself with reassuring questions, but he could at least try to put himself in a position of safety by keeping her satisfied and his nose otherwise clean. "Not sure if you're still interested." He began slowly, waiting till it seemed she was at least lending him one ear. "But there's been some talk about Tenenbaum recently."

"What about the creepy German?"

"They say Sinclair Solutions gave her the boot."

Both ears now.

Ms. Wayne looked away from the object of her attraction and the object of her scorn in favour of facing Timmy. She cared enough about this to focus back on him. Once again Timmy was confused by her priorities, it seemed the business came first. If it affected Fontaine, she'd focus. "What for?" Jaclyn asked, eyes narrowed slightly. "Way I hear it she's a genius, why'd they let someone that valuable go?"

Timmy had to chuckle when he answered. "Ethical boundaries." How could he not laugh? They were in Rapture after all.

It took a moment but finally Jaclyn processed this new information and her reaction was a hefty sigh. "Going to need something a bit stronger, Timmy." She muttered wearily. "Didn't think I'd be dealing with that wretch again so soon. But if there's such a thing as an ethical boundary in Rapture I got to find it."

And because Timmy liked his skin on his bones, he did not dare express his concern upon realizing Ms. Wayne was talking about Augustus Sinclair. Instead he just turned to fetch that drink and continued to keep an ear cocked – he'd need to gather more information for her if he wanted to stay in this nice little safety bubble.

…

…

This time they met in  _his_  office.

It was no doubt some form of petty revenge that had Sinclair arriving to find his office not as empty as he'd left it. "Ms. Wayne. I was not expecting you so soon." He greeted cordially, only the slightest weary edge to his words to give away his surprise and discontent.

She on the other hand was smiling, expression all hard edges and teeth.

Jaclyn had made herself at home in his office, lounging comfortably in the seat across from his desk bathed in the red glow of the Sinclair Solutions sing that sat beyond the window. Red bouncing off that sharp expression seemed appropriate, as though she'd just finished pulling herself out of that hole in the ground to the devil's den. Between some of the sorts Rapture played host to she just might have. Although Augustus did not see her as the Persephone sort.

Next Sinclair took note of the fact she's chosen to sit in that specific place rather than behind the desk itself, at  _his_  seat. Which would have made for an exceptional power play, if just a touch cliché. If it were anyone else he may have seen this as a basic courtesy to the owner of the establishment, but given it was Ms. Wayne here was loath to take anything at face value. Even if the face she used was a particularly lovely one.

"Not long enough since our last discussion?" She hazarded and Sinclair found himself relieved she wasn't putting much effort into pretenses today.

He on the other hand was not one to give up his manners no matter how disingenuous they might appear. "Not at all. Just a surprise, wasn't thinking I'd find you on my doorstep quite so soon." He would have rathered she actually had stopped at the doorstep as opposed to letting herself in. Now how did she manage that in the first place?

Likely, Sinclair thought with a faintly amused smile – the same way he had pulled the same little circus trick down at the fisheries. With words.

And given she'd not immediately tried to kill him once the door to the office clicked shut behind him, Augustus was willing to bet that wasn't why she'd come to visit. So for the time being it was a civil meeting and the cigar in her hand made him distinctly aware of his lack of one.

"So," Sinclair began, easing down into his seat opposite Jaclyn. The desk between the pair of them seemed to be acting as a well needed separation.

He'd never fully moved beyond the thought that this woman might just attempt to claw his eyes out given half a chance and the smallest provocation. No doubt she was armed as well, somewhere in that neat little number there'd be a handgun pocketed away. The holster Sinclair wore felt just a bit heavier at his side now. A comforting weight that allowed him to speak without so much as a hint of apprehension.

"What can I do for you?"

The words were spoken as though he was liable to do anything without proper incentive. But Sinclair had a feeling this broad wouldn't come acalling unless she thought there was something of worth on the table – so she had his intrigue.

"What do you think of ethical boundaries, Sinclair?" The lady asked and he laughed.

"Nothing more dangerous down in Rapture than talking about 'ethical boundaries' bar flat out communistic mutterings." He didn't take her for the type but Sinclair still raised a brow and asked. "Wouldn't be a red would you – Ms. Wayne?"

Her answering snort of derision was encouraging and Sinclair was able to relax once more as he opened his draw to fetch that cigar he'd been dearly missing.

What was less comforting was the shark like quality her stunning baby blues took on as she calmly responded. "Were I in fact a red, I'd have already gotten a nice little visit from chief Sullivan, isn't that right Mr. Sinclair? I'm not the only one crossing names off my list." A small chill raced down Augustus's spine and he could not quite pinpoint the brand of that response, but the source was right there in those eyes. That looking of  _knowing_ , of  _daring_ , he'd known Jaclyn to be an information gatherer like himself in many ways, he'd not expected her to so quickly come to know the extent of his communication with Ryan's enforcer. He wondered if she would have greeted him with a gun had this information given her cause for concern, had she come into it before their little deal was struck. The thought was a decidedly unpleasant one and he let it lie.

Easier to manage when in the next moment Jaclyn had eased back into her seat with a careless, very nearly offensively unimpressed flick of her wrist and lazily added. As it is, communism and the like go against human nature in its most basic form – and more importantly against my sensibilities. I don't have the time to pretend I have patience for the practice. No. I ask about ethical boundaries because it seems your company here actually has some."

In answer to her first statement Sinclair simply noted. "The downfall of all great ideologies are the people themselves." He didn't say it aloud but there was a jab at Ryan's great chain in there somewhere. It would not be wasted with Jaclyn and her fleeting wolfish smile was evidence enough that she enjoyed that sly slight on the man. But Sinclair was confounded by the final thing she'd said. "Now what makes you think that?"

It was Ms. Wayne's turn to be coy it would seem. "As I hear it-" And the throwback was not at all lost on Sinclair. "-you let go of that woman Tenenbaum for crossing those boundaries."

Now Sinclair was both tired and uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair, hand running back over his forehead, scuffing the beginning of his hairline as a sigh huffed out of him. "Tenenbaum…" He repeated wearily, having had quite enough of the woman in all honesty. She'd been too loose a cannon, brilliant everyone assured – but likely just as crazy. Seemed the two traits too often came hand in hand. "In Rapture there's no such thing as moral restraints when it comes to business." He conceded and while he'd never in all his life shunned Ryan's stance on such things – Sinclair believed there were such a thing as moderation. "People start getting a bit jumpy if they think they're likely to end up lab experiments. No better for business than letting it be restrained by morality in the first place."

With that given Sinclair once again raised his stare, once again finding himself curious and cautious of Jaclyn in equal measure. "Why the interest in Lady Frankenstein?"

"Been poking around the fisheries." Jaclyn answered with a careless flip of her hand.

She gave the information so easily that Sinclair was inclined to believe she was lying. But that knee jerk response was quickly smothered as he reminded himself they did have a deal on information sharing. He'd given her some and now she returned when asked. "Been spooking the boys something fierce and now she's gone and entered a partnership with Fontaine and the whole thing positively reeks." Wayne went on, spitting the words as though the whole ordeal were somehow an offense to her sensibilities.

Which caused Sinclair to wonder – what were her ethical boundaries; did a woman such as herself  _have_  any?

Smiling under his hand as he lit up the cigar Sinclair decided he would find out. Albeit not through the simple means of asking. If they were to be doing business like this frequently enough he'd figure it out before long and not lose the joy of discover by asking flat out. Everyman needed a hobby.

"And you want to know if she's likely to put you out of the job?" He suggested and Wayne's faint chuckle was just a touch disconcerting.

"Not in the slightest. I only mean to find out if she's a liability to Fontaine." Jaclyn explained with a crass shrug.

There was never a question as to where Jaclyn's loyalties lie, nor how resolute she was in them. Her attempts at a self-serving outer appearance were admirable, but Augustus knew what was for one's self and what was not. He'd built his livelihood on knowing where that line was drawn. Ms. Wayne did not seem to see where she crossed it. And this, Sinclair thought without a shadow of a doubt, would be Jaclyn's greatest failing.

So his smile was cordial as he gestured to the bottle of scotch between them. "Well heaven forbid I be one to disappoint. Where would you have me begin?"

This time when she smiled it was all teeth. Nothing but sharp edges and spite. But perhaps for the first time since they met –  _genuine_.

...

...

There were days that were so good it seemed like Fontaine was walking on streets of gold and the rest of them were left slugging around in the mud after him.

He'd be beaming like a damn child by the end of those days, talk of how he'd soon snatch Ryan's city out from under him, bring it all under his own control. Those were the nights that Jackie could sit back with her brother, share a drink and pretend they were still topside and her little monster was just doing any of the usual cons.

She was alone in her reminiscing of course. Frankie no more wished for the surface than he wished for Ryan to suddenly have reality hit him in the face and have him wise up to all the different ways he was enabling Fontaine to outsmart him.

But Jackie found herself missing those old days at the bar more and more. Not the sun, not the breeze – just the laughter and raunchy music on a late night. But she made do with what they had now and on good days, collapsed in the back room snickering over the stupidity of Rapture's elite with Reggie bringing them more than enough drinks – it was enough to pass.

But then there were the bad days.

Somewhere Jackie had heard the turn of phrase, 'When she was good, She was very good indeed, But when she was bad she was horrid.'

If those words hadn't been written for a curly golden haired girl somewhere, they sure as hell would have been written for her brother.

The bottle Frank threw at the wall shattered loudly, sending bits of glass flying in every direction. Before each piece had even landed a book followed it, Frank's hands already reaching for something else to hurl. All the while Reggie stood stiff as a board by the door and Jackie lay sprawled lazily across the lounge's arm, not watching as her brother tossed a fit. She could hear the carnage perfectly well and did not need the visual aid.

Sullivan had been sniffing around again, damn near licking at Fontaine's heels he got so close. They'd managed to catch a few of his men, none of which had anything of real value to show and no directly damning evidence against Fontaine. But it was the implication that would be catching Ryan's attention. He'd proved time and time again to have no trust for Fontaine or indeed anyone who stood in a position to smuggle things in or out of Rapture.

Regardless of how little actual proof there was to implicate Frank to the smuggling ring – the mere fact that Sullivan was getting so uncomfortably close to his boys was enough to get Fontaine's blood boiling.

"That—" Another bottle picked up, another sound of shattering glass. "—fucking  _idiot_!" Frank snarled, the pause in carnage likely due to him exhausting his supply of items in easy range. He'd go looking for more the longer this went on. "I told him didn't I?  _Discretion_. I told him didn't I, Reggie?" He barked, getting a simple yes from the otherwise silent statue of a man.

The reply was unnecessary; Frank wasn't actually listening for one. "But oh no, Wilkins thinks he's managing his boys so damn well. Thinks he can bark at me over wages of all things. You want to get strung up by Ryan's god damn lap dogs, that's one sure fire way to go about it!"

Something new shattered and Jackie winced, wondering what on earth he'd found to break now. Her headache was lending itself to this situation horribly and the longer Frankie went on the more her patience dwindled.

His fingers had just curled around the neck of a mostly empty bottle of vodka when Jackie's slow drawl broke through the raging for just a moment. "Frankie." She called slowly, waving her arm back and forth in the air in the same sluggish manner. "Come 'ere a second, would ya kindly?"

Still not facing her brother Jackie caught the sound of him snarling but a few seconds later she heard the bottle being set down rather than broken against the far wall. A couple more and Frank was standing rigidly by her head, glaring down at her face as she laid over the curve of the lounge.

Frank's body was bound up so tight it was a miracle he hadn't just  _snapped_. Had he they'd be cleaning Peach's blood off the floors rather than the remains of shattered bottles of alcohol. One was easier to clean than the other but Jackie couldn't deny the thought of ol' Peach dead at her feet was not wholly unappealing. However, seeing her brother so tense was decidedly less pleasing.

With a flippant gesture she called her brother down in a way she had a few times in the past. Once when he was only a boy and still suffered from the questions as to why they had no parents to care for them, the first time a con had gone busto, and every single time Frank had drunk himself blind.

It had been quite some time and Frank stood with his eyes narrowed, skeptical of this old tradition being pulled out of the history books after so long.

For a moment Jackie wondered if he'd outgrown the practice. That possibility turning to an excruciating squeeze in her chest, unpleasant and painful to consider. But a moment later Frank let out a hefty sigh, dropping to his knees by the side of the lounge, arm and heads buried against his sister's side a moment later. The vice like pressure vanished and Jackie allowed herself a pleased hum as she ran her fingers across the back of her brother's head gently.

He was still tense, likely would be until he'd been properly able to let off steam but Jackie reckoned she could get him to at least calm down enough to stop breaking things for a while.

"Fuckin' incompetent." Frank groused again, voice muffled by the lounge's cushions but the sour note still came out loud and clear. "Better of hiring a bunch of circus monkeys."

Laughing gently Jackie eased herself upright, careful not to jostle her brother too much and to keep the gentle movement of her hand going. It worked to sooth Frank just a little.

Glancing up Jackie caught Reggie's gaze and with her free hand gave him the silent go ahead to start cleaning up the disaster Frank's fit had left behind. Once Reggie got to it Jackie turned her attention back to her disgruntled brother.

"Enough of that, Frankie." She murmured, voice taking on that familiar note of tenderness that she sweetened up for the masses but only gave genuinely to her brother. "Instead, come tell your big sis again about those crackpot scientists you've got on payroll."

This was a topic of conversation that usually lifted Frank's mood where all else failed. Simply because it was perhaps the most promising of all his enterprises and Frank was nothing if not an excitable kid in Jackie's eyes.

Shifting slightly under her hands, Frank lifted his he'd just enough to peer up at her and if that was just  _the_  look of petulance. She couldn't help but laugh again at the sight of it, though Frank didn't seem any more put off by her snickering. "Are you actually going to listen this time or are you just trying to distract me?"

"If I do both would that satisfy you?"

Without awaiting an answer, Jackie positioned herself a little better, to make it easier for Frank to rest his head on her lap as she toyed with drawing imaginary patterns against his skull. It took little more prompting and after a slow start, Frank's bad mood still evident in the tightness lingering in his words, he was talking freely about whatever this ADAM business was.

Jackie was no academic, any intelligence she had crammed into her skull was all street learnt and she was certainly not the brightest spark in terms of higher education. Likely one of the dimmest in Rapture in fact. So she just let Frank's vague explanations of genetic manipulation and seemingly magical underwater sea slugs wash over her. Fortunate for them both Frankie was about as scientific a mind as herself and she knew that the words he was giving her would not have been the ones the eggheads had, all he said to her had been tailored for a common man's ears. She listened of course. More to the excitement that slowly trickled back into her brother's voice than the actual content.

But Jackie did find herself picking up on a few things that struck a cord.

Primarily that this miracle wonder drug would likely be highly addictive and stand to do some serious damage in the long run. Her mind wandered back to Stiff who was no longer quite so stiff in the hands. He'd been on cloud nine after getting those fingers twitching again, but she hadn't heard so much as a whisper of him in months. Frank had shrugged this off, commenting that he'd gone stir crazy and was likely just a raving lunatic by now. Knowing what they did now, Jackie would have put money on it having something to do with the slug that bit him. Stiff might have been a pig but he certainly had all his screws tightly in place last she'd checked them.

"You just keep that German twist at a good arm's length, brother." Jackie advised when Frank took a moment to breathe. "All kinds of horror stories circulating about that one. Heard she jammed a needle straight into some poor sod's groin."

Frank's laughter lacked even the faintest shred of sympathy. Being a man himself Jackie would have thought he would have at least flinched on the sorry bastard's behalf. Not so much as an empathy wince. "Sounds just like something she'd do." He agreed rather than cringing, smirking faintly at the thought and Jackie had to roll her eyes.

"If I didn't know better, Frankie, I'd say you're sweet on her." Despite the hint of teasing, Jackie was all concern with those words.

Her brother  _would_  end up narrowing in on a woman like that. It was just like him to be completely and utterly insane when it came to a broad that caught his eye for so much as a second. Jackie did not think she needed to remind him how poorly that had gone over in the past. She'd not be the one cleaning vomit out of his clothes should it go south again.

Rather than give her a straight answer, Frank responded with a snicker of his own. "Ha, I've never been sweet on anyone beyond the sheets."

"Oh now ain't that the biggest lie you've ever told. I can think of a few broads topside you fancied."

Not one of them stuck around for more than a night or two of course. Jackie liked the ones that had a toss with her brother in the sheets and then carried themselves off. A simple spot of fun. It was the ones that thought they'd get attached that left her with headaches.

As if able to read the thought flying across his sister's mind Frank then added. "Yeah, and not one you would approve of."

"Not one you'd have kept if I had." She might have sent girls packing in the early mornings, but only because Frank was usually still dead asleep. He wasn't the type to get close to anyone really. The only exception she could name being Reggie.

With a sigh Jackie relented, allowing the topic to drop. If this Tenenbaum woman ended up being one that caught his attention there was not a blasted thing she could do about it. Frank got his way most days and she couldn't think of a woman that hadn't been won over by him with some pretty lie or another. She'd just hoped he didn't go playing around too much with the ones that had a brain rattling around their heads. This almost never proved to be the case.

"You like the smart ones, brother. The smart ones are the dangerous ones."

It's bad for business she might have added, but Frankie knew damn well the dangers of a clever woman. She'd taught him that early – taught him not to over look a girl because she fluttered her eyes and said sweet little nothings. If she had a working mind and he was busy gawking at her breasts he'd never get far. Her Frankie had to be better than the slack jawed men she played.

"Nothing to worry about on my end, sis." Frank assured her though Jackie still had doubts. "She's crazy alright, but that dame is going to get the ball rolling faster than Peach and his boys. Got the damn key to Rapture growing in her lab she does."

Admittedly it did seem that way. Some magical goo that could completely rewrite a person's genetics. Something that could make them older, younger, stronger, faster, smarter. Anything they damn well pleased. Jackie couldn't have even dreamed that up. But she'd always held true to the belief of 'if it's too good…' After all Frank had made his livelihood off of giving idiots things that were too good to be true.

Although it seemed Rapture ran almost exclusively on the premise of it being too good. The whole city felt like it couldn't be true and granted it seemed cracks were beginning to show. Even had Fontaine not been supplying bibles, booze and even letters to the surface – the city would have started to crack under the pressure. Ryan didn't see the faults yet and more hopeful men thought he might in time. But Jackie thought he'd see this through until the whole place was sunk.

Unless of course, her brother got ahold of it first.

"For now…" Jackie began, voice hushed to a quiet murmur. "You rest. No running off to check on the progress of scientists or those smuggling boys. No exchanging what are barely concealed slights against Ryan and just rest."

"Anyone would think you'd found a maternal instinct, Jackie. Not exactly following Rapture's philosophy with this 'rest' idea." He teased but Frank wasn't making an effort to go anywhere. Instead he seemed even more comfortable and content to stay leant against the side of the lounge with his sister keeping him comfortable and warm.

"Rapture can have you back when I'm good and ready to give you to it." Jackie chided with a faint smile, waiting for Frank to settle down properly.

She knew when he was relaxed because he'd gone right ahead and fallen asleep where he sat by her side. Must have been the first time he'd actually slept in a long time. Always so busy, always moving – never stopping for a moment least he get trapped with his own thoughts for more than a second. Jackie wouldn't wake him for hours yet, if he got restless she might have Reggie help her get him to bed but she'd not take away the few hours of rest he could manage.

Sighing quietly Jackie leant back against the arm of the lounge, fingers still gently brushing across her brother's head as he slept. "Not so sure it's going to like what you do to it though, Frankie." She mused under her breath. Rapture would just have to handle whatever Fontaine dished it, and once Ryan was out of the picture the only thing this city would have left would be her brother.

Jackie could not think of a better ending for the city of man.

A month later the first plasmid was released to the public.


	11. Changes Coming In

Rapture's ever moving race for the top bore with it new competitors as the New Year was ushered in. Nineteen-forty-nine, like every year before it after Rapture had established itself properly was shaping up to be the same as all those before it, clawing and scrambling from those just close enough to the top to see the soles of Ryan's feet.

Fontaine was only a head and shoulders above that ledge with his smuggling but those crack job scientists had pushed him above Ryan now – a paper route was what he ran when compared to Fontaine's rapid expansion of enterprise and the man could not be happier. Waltzing around in another man's hard work and smirking.

He'd promised his sister wealth and fine objects to satisfy her eye for all things that glittered. Now he came looking for a different sort of gift for the girl with the stickiest fingers he knew. And he sought it out from one of those newly sprouted businesses. Always willing to go that extra mile to make his face known and size up a new source of possible exploitation.

What Fontaine hadn't expected as he stepped into the shadow of that new possibility was to find another man looking to make a profit – only to have been stone walled before he had truly started.

"What a surprise." Fontaine remarked upon seeing Sinclair lingering by the newly opened premises. "Wouldn't have expected to see you down around these parts, Sinclair." Jovial as his tone it seemed the other man did not share in his enthusiastic mood.

In terms of their business ventures their moods matched rather well with their current standings.

While Fontaine stood, elated and self-confident in his every movement – Sinclair was left standing in the shadow of a failure and Frank could perfectly imagine the spite that must have been burning in the man's gut as he looked upon Rapture's newest commerce.

Word traveled quickly in this fish tank, only made faster when Jackie had her fingers pulling those boy's strings. Fontaine found himself set on edge by his sister's influence over his men, claimed a few as her own even while they remained on his payroll in name only. But Frankie trusted her to make use of them in ways he simply couldn't – a woman's touch. Even if she was a mad bitch.

The end result - if there was something worth knowing, Jackie brought it to him without fail and Sinclair's own failings had reached him in record time.

Ever the businessman however, Sinclair's expression quickly fixed itself into one that was a near match for Fontaine's casual arrogance. "Mister Fontaine, colour me equally surprised. Not come to change suppliers I should hope?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Sinclair my good fellow – but still," Fontaine felt his expression give way to a more lethal smirk, edging on a sneer. "A man does find himself curious to see the rest of the options on the market. Thought I'd come and see the quality of these goods. You understand I'm sure."

For the briefest moment something sharp crossed Sinclair's face but Fontaine knew that had he not been anticipating it he'd never have seen anything.

Still, it was likely unwise to go poking fingers into open wounds. It was a fun but messy business, he knew better than to leave tracks. His smile remained flawless, his words civil even as they caused the tension to skyrocket between them. It was cathartic he supposed. Perhaps this was why his sister as of late had insisted on holding exchanges with the man.

Frank's smile twitched as Sinclair's settled.

"Well o' course." He agreed in an overly amicable way. "Can't fault a man for keeping a keen eye." And as though he was unable to find anymore words that would keep to that agreeable tone Sinclair turned to look back at the large sign that hung over their heads. For once surprisingly void of a neon glow – Ryan wouldn't fancy the pain look of this one. Valor's Amory. A new weapons production and dealership.

Sinclair did not particularly enjoy having offers he believed to be a done deal taken out from under him.

He'd believed the offer to be reasonable, at least not a con by any stretch. The woman's home defense business did alright but Sinclair had sought to corner the market on weapons distribution and thought her set up would be an easy sell. He hadn't expected her to bite back with a second enterprise expanding on the first.

Valerie was a hard sale of a broad he'd hand that much to her but this went a little beyond just that.

Had he not known Valerie to be the moral sort he'd have thought she'd chosen to become his competitor out of spite. Well perhaps it wasn't far from the mark, not spite but principle.

Principles, in weapons dealing – for Christ's sake.

Principles really had no place in Ryan's city, didn't mean much of anything to the rest of the citizens, himself included. But it meant something to her and just like that her business became opposition, if nothing else he could at least admire the extent of her values and once again wondered why she'd set up shop in a place like this.

Valery wasn't going to budge and he begrudgingly had to concede he'd been out played this time.

He was not having a great deal of luck with the fairer sex as of late.

With that thought in mind Sinclair's gaze flicked back over to Fontaine. He found it impossible to believe the man was not aware of the snake he had in his employ, the man was sharp as they came. Had to be in order to step all over Ryan's nerves with a smile and come away with nary a scratch.

They all knew he was smuggling, it was the best kept open secret in Rapture – but Ryan couldn't pin the evidence on Fontaine. Always where the evidence wasn't when the time was right. Never got more than a handful of idiots at a time and not a single one had a wrong word to say about Fontaine, nor did they connect too closely to him outside of closed doors.

No, Frank Fontaine was by no means a careless sort, if he had a snake working for him it was only because he had the same venom in his bite so to speak.

Sinclair had to play things more carefully when he spoke with this one unless he wanted a taste of that venom himself. "Can't say it's not a sting." He admitted as though this small vulnerability shared was a peace offering. He and Fontaine did good business after all – best to keep to that relationship.

Especially when the man came to him baring new exciting prospects.

Plasmids. Sinclair was still winding his mind around the concept. But the concept did not matter any, the money that could be made off them the only thing worth focusing on.

He thought it amusing. Ryan had him running an underground prison and Fontaine had him producing dicey science with the poor souls that got sent into his clutches. Technically everything went smoothly – unofficially approved by Ryan. Perhaps he'd have been blue in the face if he knew where those unwanted individuals actually ended up.

If only because he grew to loath Fontaine's face with every passing day. Whatever admiration he'd had for the vicious businessman dwindling as he was forcefully pushed out with every step forward Fontaine took.

Still plasmids were game changing as they were concerning. Even Sinclair had to take a step back and wonder if there were just some things men should not toy with the first time he'd seen a sorry bastard burst into flames. His unholy shrieking had stuck with Sinclair for some time.

But the heavy wad of cash Fontaine had put into his back pocket had stayed with him for far longer.

Fontaine tossed out a nonchalant sort of smile as he approached his partner in arguable crimes and Sinclair let the snake coil itself around his leg, if only to avoid the venom of it's bite "Never you fear." Fontaine said, clapping Sinclair on the shoulder as he passed him by. "The New Year brings with it only good things."

Good things and a shot of ADAM into weak veins.

Sinclair watched as Fontaine vanished into Valery's open doors and thought the woman would have readily given him the boot had she been there in person. He pondered idly if she'd have slipped the needle under her skin if she thought it'd do some good. Maybe – until she saw Fontaine's name on it.

Truly she had an eye for their sort and Sinclair couldn't help a dry, bitter chuckle as he flicked out his lighter. A smoke seemingly like a good way to ease his nerves and even that he noted had Fontaine's label on it – invisible, as it may have been.

He wondered how long they'd be living in Ryan's vision as Fontaine continued to take over and then wondered what Rapture would be like in the hands of a man like that.

Then just as quickly discarded the thought, it didn't matter any so long as Fontaine and Ryan kept supplying him money to keep an eye on the other. Even if he was keeping closer tabs on one over the other.

Time to give ol' Stanley a call.

 

…  
…

 

The New Year, as it turned out, brought with it just a little more than Edmund had signed up for.

Of all things for he'd thought Fontaine might decide to suddenly dabble in, charity had not made the list. But sure enough there he stood, overseeing the construction of the 'Little Sister's Orphanage'. He was not much of a questioning man; he wasn't paid to run his gob.

Quite the opposite in fact. Miss Jaclyn didn't fancy a tattletale.

But looking over this new endeavor he couldn't help but begin to wonder if they'd make a questioning man of him yet. Within the safety of his own silent thoughts he certainly had questions. Why a charity? Why an orphanage? Why just girls?

Sighing irritably under his breath Edmund pulled out a much needed cigarette. He'd been able to afford the more expensive kind for a while now, not much of materialist and more a hoarder of any green he could get his hands on, but the smoke he pulled into his lungs now were priceless within Rapture. You'd not find your hands on good like these unless you were a favourite toy of Miss Wayne. Eddie counted himself among those unlucky few and once again knew better than to ask where she'd acquired cigarettes that had origins on land.

If Ryan couldn't prove anything then any one of them could have been free to puff that illegal smoke in his face. Eddie wasn't the vindictive sort and so left displays of arrogance like that to the likes of Fontaine.

Hestia was home to not only the orphanage but what would become a home for the poor. Yet another charity that Eddie took with a ton of salt down the throat. There was talk of a second orphanage being set up in Siren's Alley as well and Eddie got the distinct feeling he'd be overseeing that production as well.

He'd initially been surprised that Fontaine put him to minding the lads working on construction but realised very quickly that if he wanted to remain in Wayne's favour he'd do just that. Her newest game with that wretch Sinclair seemed to require all kinds of observation and information gathering. It felt rather dangerous to include Fontaine's enterprises on that list, but once again Edmund let those questions go silent. Wasn't his place and it wouldn't get any more money or goods in his pockets to make a fuss. Still, those voiceless questions persisted.

With another drag of nicotine tinged smoke Eddie let the lungful out with a second heavier sigh. The new year had barely even passed them, the festivities still in full swing for the evening, and already he felt weary of this year.

"Never thought I'd see the day a charity popped up in Rapture."

Speaking of weary.

Turning away from the laborers swarming around the soon to be completed home for the poor, Eddie met with two familiar faces. "Warren, what are ya doing being Lewis 'round these parts?" He asked, eyes flicking between his tenuous friend and the young airhead he'd brought along to pester him.

The youngest of the three made some sound of offence, the show of irritation a shallow one. "Lovely to see you too, Eddie." He huffed and Edmund didn't bother trying to hide his eye roll from the pair.

Warren tossed Eddie a pitiless smile, the dry expression nearly weaseling a third sigh out of the man. No point in complaining now he supposed. Lewis was likely some sort of a peace offering. After all Eddie had no doubt that Warren was actually here to see what was worth reporting back to Sinclair.

Deeming it alright to split his focus between his work – which for the past hour had been little more than standing and staring, to assure none of the idiots managed to set something alight while putting the kitchens in place – and his two 'friends', Eddie turned to face both properly. "How's your brother?" He asked mildly, something to take Lewis's attention away from his slight insult.

Worked a charm as the young man's eyes lit up in that particular way. He was a bit of a handful, pick the right topic and he just went. No need for an active talking partner when Lewis had all the information in the world apparently bottled up in his head and he simply had to share it. In this case it was a small mercy that his elder brother was a conversation that could be derailed if he got too worked up. "Wally is doing great! Have you seen his newest work?" He asked excitedly. "The Artist's Struggle is displaying it."

"You know I aint got no eye or time for art." Eddie groused, feeling a small swell of what he refused to think of as guilt at the admission.

Walter was as close to a friend as it got, and of the three he had Walter remained the least headache inducing. Mostly because the man didn't seem to speak, leaving his brother to snatch up all the words he could. For an artist he was blissfully quiet. Eddie could do without another Cohen running around screeching from the high-rises about what was and was not art.

Catching Lewis's slightly downtrodden expression Eddie amended his original response. "Once this lot finishes up for the day I'll swing by the plaza and have a look." As quickly as Lewis could be disheartened he was able to turn that light back on and beam at him.

He wondered idly if all 'brilliant minds' were as fickle as Lewis's.

Eddie caught Warren's eye going back to the work in progress behind him. Recognized that slight downward tug at the corners of the man's lips as the same unspoken question he'd been asking since Fontaine announced this project. "Ryan kicking up a stink about this yet?" He asked, bringing Warren's eyes back to him.

"I'm sure the man is seething, but what can he say about it? Fontaine is the one shelling out the money for this, it's entirely funded by the man. If it was asking for donations or trying to survive off a government payment Ryan would be able to knock it down. But as it is now? Nothing he can do about it."

Not for the first time Eddie wondered if Fontaine had done this purely to dance on Ryan's nerves that little bit more.

When he looked over at the construction again, Eddie let a small truth slip before he could think to censor himself. "Can't say I agree with 'im." He admitted bitterly. "There's plenty of folk that could use a proper roof over their heads. Not like they got much in the way of options right now."

Out loud that sounded like blasphemy. As though at any moment Ryan's great chain itself would wrap around his throat as punishment for that thought. But Eddie dug his heels in within his own mind and stood firmly by it. He came here as a working family, not one of Ryan's handpicked rich boys and girls. It was Ryan's fault there were so many people flocking to Siren Alley and the drop. He'd given the men and women that built his city lies dressed up as technicalities. They had no money, no jobs – Ryan gave them nothing after they'd built him everything.

So if Fontaine offered where Ryan rejected, who were they to refuse?

His gaze remained fixed on the front of the shelter, able to feel Warren's gaze boring into the back of his skull. Warren was not a hardened soul, he knew that. But that did not make him a bleeding heart either. He didn't need Warren's agreement – he didn't need anyone's judgment or validation.

To Fontaine he'd have asked, why. To Ryan he'd have accused, fraud. He doubted either would respond in earnest and so he remained silent. Eddie would continue to quietly burn with his questions and criticisms.

Then finally Lewis spoke. His voice soft and lyrical when compared to Eddie's harsh tone. "Rapture might not be built for it…but I don't think there's anything wrong with a touch of altruism."

Now that word was blasphemous and Eddie whipped around to look at the man so quickly his head began to spin. But Lewis just smiled that idle, airheaded smile of his. "After all, Ryan advocates for freedom of all things. Speech, enterprise, choice. So if someone chooses to be kind or charitable then they have just as much right to do so as someone who chooses not to – correct?"

If there was anything Ryan would have loathed more than Fontaine's constant looming existence – it would have been Lewis's sentiment. He was right, and that might have stung the creator of Rapture more than the poor house itself.

Warren eventually let out a little sigh and Eddie smiled dryly, thinking it good that Warren began to feel some of the same fatigue as he did. "You two are going to end up on some kind of radar at this rate." He chastised but not one of the three men was truly worried. This was the city of man after all.

Freedom was the philosophy of the city. They'd be alright.

"Well as much as I hate to say it…this is a touch comforting." Warren relented, looking over the sign that was yet to light up in the neon colours that Rapture so fancied. "Knowing that there's actually a place for kids to go if things go south."

Eddie didn't need to ask. Knew that Warren was thinking of his own newborn sister while looking at this place. With that in mind he looked at it in a new light. Where he'd mostly thought of this place as a means of spiting Ryan and doing some shred of good, now he saw it perhaps the way Warren did even without saying so. A safety net if something went wrong.

He thought of the little girl that Warren had showed him over drinks not a week earlier. She was no more than a few months old, still barely more than a squirming bundle of sobbing and translucent hair. But she'd grow into a proper little girl one day and with this place existing now, Warren must have felt a bit safer knowing that even if everything went wrong and she was left alone – there'd still be a place for his little sister in Rapture.

That thought alone had Edmund standing back upright, straightening out his spine. Aware that both his friends were watching him. "Well shockingly I'm still on the clock. I'll meet the pair o' you after I wrap up here for the day?" He suggested, leaving the offer open. Lewis pounced on it with the same enthusiasm as he always had.

"We'll meet you in the plaza!" The young man announced, a bounce in his step as he skipped around Eddie and out of the man's way, standing by Warren's side. In turn Warren smiled just a little, a crooked knowing glance that promised a bottle or two in the near future.

With a careless wave over his shoulder Eddie turned back towards the soon to be orphanage. Snubbing out his cigarette as he passed through the freshly finished archway, head craning back as he looked up the twisting flights of stairs. This place wasn't built quite as fancy as the rest of Rapture, that was to be expected given it was to be a place that made no money of it's own. Still Eddie looked at it more critically now.

If this was to be a place where children lived and people were given help then he'd see it made better. No matter what Fontaine's real intent may have been – charity absolutely not in his nature – it didn't matter. Eddie was going to ensure this place got built to the best of its ability.

 

…  
…

 

Jasmine was a visage.

But she had Jaclyn looking at artwork as though that might in someway capture her attention for longer than Jasmine's barely made up face.

That wasn't to say the art was bad by any means, still paintings just didn't hold the same charm as the living piece of art at her arm, currently squealing about the newest pieces that caught her fancy.

"Josie, love." Jaclyn began in an amused drawl. "You'll have outgrown these come next month." And have blown all her money on a flight of fancy. Really Jasmine was alarmingly fickle. But Jaclyn indulged her to no end.

Bouncing Jasmine seemed ready to fly off Jaclyn's arm at any given moment, likely to try touching the artworks she liked so much. A child that had to be kept still to avoid breaking the goods they couldn't afford to pay for. In an effort to keep Jasmine from ruining the art or setting off an artist's delicate sensibilities, Jaclyn calmly laid her hand down atop the giddy woman's to keep her in place.

Not so that she could feel the soft skin underneath.

Apparently feeling chastised by Jaclyn, as she rightfully should, Jolene turned to toss her an ineffective but greatly amusing pout. "Well which one do you like?" She challenged and Jaclyn nearly sighed. She didn't think that she could answer that in honesty. Although the thought of flat out telling the gorgeous woman she easily outshone all these pastel and oil canvased ladies was briefly entertained.

Jolene had proven herself unaffected by blatant flirting and while Jackie occasionally couldn't help herself on that front it was rarely worth the small stab of disappointment when it flew over the other woman's head. So instead of honesty she sought to pacify Jolene by looking over the paintings. Truthfully very few of them were bad, the skill was clearly there but Jackie didn't fancy the subject matter.

Each lovely lady she saw on the canvas felt twisted. They were painted fantasies and Jackie knew it childish but the thought of the man behind that brush made her blood boil just a little. Frankie had always told her she had a bit of a nasty streak when it came to artists, she thought he was on the money for that one.

Careful to keep the disdain off her face Jackie looked through each one. Some were simply beautiful in that typical way, revealing varying degrees of flesh to the observer and a few seemed as though they'd painted from a model while others relief on reference and fantasy. There were a precious few that became more abstract or vile, missing limbs, strung up and painted red in a way that suggested perversion of a darker kind. Jaclyn noticed Jolene pointedly didn't look at those paintings. She was a child at heart, she liked purely pretty things with no deeper meaning attached. It was a fine way to enjoy art although Jackie knew she'd have been scoffed at by the man standing behind the counter. Spine ridged and almost as uniform as his stuffy suit.

Finally Jackie found a splash of colour that caught her eye. It took her a moment to realise why that particular piece had caught her attention, besides the more vibrant colours and the lack of any immediately noticeable pale fleshy tones. Without thinking Jackie stepped over to that painting and she must have surprised Jolene because for a second the contact between them broke.

She was looking at the surface. A memory of it.

The painting burned with unnatural colours, it wasn't a real representation of the world up above but she understood the appeal of it. How it seemed in memory when compared to reality and made only brighter with the pallet of their underwater city. She knew that Rapture was stifling her but it wasn't until she looked at the painting that she realised how much it felt like suffocating.

She was getting soft.

Fortunately the hand that slid under her arm again was equally soft and far more comforting. "You fancy this one?" Jolene asked, she was still using her showgirl voice but Jackie thought it was softened for her in that moment. Perhaps she didn't give Jasmine enough credit, she might not have been the brightest spark in terms of great intellect – but she had more empathy in her pinky than most of the city could muster in their collective being. Jackie included in those ranks.

Quietly she sighed and mustered a small smile for the pretty blonde on her arm. "Guess it makes me a touch homesick."

Jasmine frowned and it was nearly painful to see a crease form between her brows. Jaclyn wondered if she could withdraw the comment and replace it with a sweeter lie. But before she could find the energy to make one, Jolene was peering closer at the painting. "It's so pretty." She murmured, frown dropping. "Oh! Oh, I know this artist! Here, look." Jolene pulled Jackie to a different side of the gallery, seeking out another by the same artist.

It would have been near impossible to guess that the painting Jolene brought her to shared a creator with the one they left. The colours were entirely different, as was the subject material. It wasn't the surface this time but instead beyond it into the stars and Jackie found this one equally captivating. The colours again were all imagined, nothing like what the dark expanse overhead had looked like in the few times she'd face it. But it was so clearly the stars and so clearly the way the artist saw it.

"What's 'is name." Jolene murmured to herself, fingers pressing into her temples like she could physically pull it out of her skull. Jaclyn chose to believe that's exactly what happened when a moment later Jasmine pepped back up with an answer on her tongue. "He writes poetry! Walter Thomas." She recalled, looking extraordinarily proud of herself.

That expression alone getting a dryly-amused smile from Jackie. "A poet huh?"

"He writes love poems, the paintings go with them. I absolutely adore his writing, some o' it don't make much sense to me but he writes it all in such a lovely way."

Jackie hadn't noticed at first but there was in fact a neatly written set of pages under the painting. The poetry she supposed. She wasn't a massive fan of poems, most of them a bit too wordy for her tastes. She listened to her own tongue weaving pretty lies often enough without having someone else's on paper.

Jasmine did not share her distaste for the written art however, clearly a fan of the artist. Jackie wondered if this was another passing fancy of hers or if she'd hold fondness for this man's work for more than the usual month or so. "The ladies love him. But I hear he's not much for the ladies." And if that wasn't the closest Jasmine had ever come to sounding scandalous then Jackie didn't know what else there was. She rather liked it.

She had no choice but to chuckle in the face of Jasmine's innocent teasing. "Oh you gossip."

The pair of them shared a moment of laughter that seemed to ruffle the suit's nerves as he then stiffly asked if they intended to buy anything. Jackie turned to say no but paused, eyes drifting back to Jolene for just a moment.

Well it wasn't as though she'd never been accused of being frivolous herself. "Actually, I'd like this one."

At her side Jasmine startled, tugging at her sleeve in alarm. "Are you sure, Jackie?" And despite everything she shivered hearing her real name falling from Jolene's lips under the guise of a nickname.

"Positive, Josie." She purred back on instinct, hand resting over Jolene's again. "I don't have anywhere nice to hang it of course, so you'll have to mind it for me, yeah?"

Her pretty, blooming smile was more than confirmation enough that this was the right decision. Her wallet might ache over it but Jackie wouldn't regret it for a moment knowing she'd given Jolene a gift that she had no intention of taking back. It was a nice thought that somewhere in Jolene's life she'd have a picture that might remind her of that night and a neat little bundle of borrowed words that spoke of love.

She supposed she would be a fan of this Thomas man as well after tonight.


	12. Speaking Sincerely

Sinclair Solutions had a particular feeling to it.

As Jaclyn stood, shoulder jammed into the edge of a window frame, looking over the workers down below she couldn't help but coin that feeling as skittish. Privately her gaze flicked back into the depths office and the man whom it belonged to. The cigar between her fingers dropping more glowing ash onto the windowsill, joining the ash already gathered there. Evidence that Sinclair himself would on occasion stand where she currently stood, eyes passing over those in his employ.

Skittish. Strange that the word was applied here where she did not place onto the fisheries. Not that the fisheries had half as much work going on in it now days.

"Plasmids." She said aloud, tasting the word on her tongue with a special brand of disgust. "How much of a poison are they?"

It was likely due to how little a performance they bothered with now days that Sinclair did not even attempt to give her the salesman pitch and instead just answered with a sly smile. "Ah, now, that would be a question for your employer wouldn't it, darlin'?"

A sharp scowl sent back his way was the answer Sinclair got for that small jab. They both knew full well this was not a situation that was so easily broached with Fontaine.

Still it seemed off to Sinclair that Miss Wayne had come to him to enquire about Fontaine's new gold mine. Surely she knew all about it already.

"How much?" She repeated more stiffly, no bartering to be had.

Briefly Sinclair's gaze shifted to Jaclyn just as hers had fixated on his moments earlier. Neither would have been surprised to catch the other watching, seeking out cracks in their shell to exploit. Similar neither of them would have turned away once caught, but it was unlikely either would be.

What he was watching for this time a little harder to know. Rarely was Jaclyn so tense. Rarer still did she come to him with questions of Fontaine.

Had there been a shift between the two?

The thought brought a smile across the businessman's lips and smugly he returned to counting the notes in hand. Nonplussed by the same strain that seemed to have fallen over Jaclyn. If there were a rupture between her and Fontaine, Sinclair would discover it before long. Leverage never a bad thing when working with men like Ryan and Fontaine.

With women like this however, gaining leverage proved a little more difficult. Not so much because she was a harder nut to crack but simply because Sinclair did not  _know_  what it was that truly motivated her or what she wanted. With no end goal in sight or clean motives, she became harder to predict and every shot was one taken in the dark, hoping to hit a mark that would not get him killed.

It was the sort of game one played with time to spare and luck enough to stake a life on it. Sinclair wasn't much for useless gambits, but he couldn't deny he was a bit of a gambler. Never know the jackpot might be well worth the risk.

"From what I've seen o' those plasmids, they're a one way sort of street." He mused, reclining in his seat and no longer taking sly glances at the woman by his window, facing her directly though she did not return the courtesy.

Eyes still firmly trained on the ongoings below. Jaclyn considered what she knew of people in general. In Rapture it wasn't hard to see the appeal of these plasmids. An easy way to make yourself desirable as physical labour. A quick way to be useful in a city that would discard them if they didn't find a way to appear profitable. Marketed as a saving grace, a final chance and  _painfully_  cheap.

Yes, Jackie knew these moves. They were the first steps of a dealer. She should know, she'd shown Frankie how to push just those kinds of reliefs himself in the past. But why plasmids?

Finally Jaclyn turned to meet Sinclair's gaze. "Would you take them?"

"Surely not."

An answer so quick and sure – Jaclyn could not even say she was surprised.

All good dealers knew not to touch their own produce and Sinclair had helped to develop these new drugs for the populace. Testing them for Fontaine Futuristics and supplying subjects. All willingly he claimed.

He'd expressed some kind of concern in the past about that with lady Frankenstein's complete lack of human sensibilities – Jackie was not naive enough to mistake this for any kind of altruism on his part – merely playing the long game to avoid any angry mobs. Forcing people to provide their bodies to science was still a form of murder in the case of these experiments after all.

Rapture had three rules. Do not steal, do not rape, do not kill.

And yet with every passing day Jackie began to wonder if there were some unspoken laws being set in place bit by bit. How claustrophobic this fish tank became with each year passing them by. She thought of the world above, the sky and the people still standing under it. Ryan insisted they'd wipe one another out in due time, but they'd never know from down here.

"I take it you'd be disapproving of these plasmids then?" Sinclair ventured, a coy smirk on his face and Jaclyn had to think for a moment to decide where she stood on that front.

Disapproval was not the word. Not quite. Frankie smuggled and sold or sorts of goods. Ranging it something as wholesome as a bible to as questionable as the white powder. But in Rapture drugs that the surface would never allow were perfectly legal. If you had the means why not take them as you saw fit? Jackie had never once had a problem with any of it, however plasmids left her on uneven footing and she was yet to figure out what it was that put her there.

When she put her finger on it, she readily shared it with Sinclair. It must have surprised him that she did, because the man was dreadfully silent as she spoke. "I'm not a god-fearing woman, Sinclair. I'm not even a god-believing woman. But these plasmids, there's nothing right about it. Ain't got nothing to do with the science or fundamental slights against what we might consider natural. No, where the real problem lies is here."

Jaclyn paused, finger tapping against the glass of Sinclair's window, gaze finally turning to meet his. A certain flatness and finality brewing behind those blue eyes. Sharp and familiar, eyes he'd surely seen before but could not place a name to.

"On the ocean floor, in a fish tank, and we're giving people the means to toss fire about. Forgive me for saying but – there are just some things that  _should_  be policed."

At this Sinclair straightened, an unnameable sort of expression flashing across his face. It quickly righted itself into one of shaky mockery, but his voice betrayed the panic his eyes had snuffed out. "Ryan catches you talking like that and he'll have ya shipped off somewhere."

Jackie's smile was scathing. "Cheka."

A cold chill rushed down Sinclair's spine, simply because he knew the truth of it.

After all it was his facility that Ryan had started to fill, some of them true criminals. Smugglers, thieves and violent types – but sometimes the requirements for what called for the use of Sinclair's services stretched to suit Ryan's beliefs and those that didn't share them. Extreme cases of course, suspected reds and the like. But…well Sinclair was no stranger to the concept of a slippery slope.

Knowing all this he doubted Jaclyn would ever truly bite her tongue. Finally a chuckle left Sinclair, strained but genuinely amused. The sort of entertainment one might take from a particularly morbid joke. "How you ever got to Rapture I'll never know." Jaclyn's smile remained but it lost some of its sharp edge before she looked out the window again.

"Fancy a wager, Sinclair?" She asked, voice lighter than before. Though there forever remained that slight sense of spite behind her words. Sinclair began to wonder if it was every truly directed at him or if it'd all been conjured up for Ryan.

He was a bit of a gambler. "Depends, lay it out for me."

"It's a long haul." Jackie warned near mischievously. "I say that Ryan cracks before Rapture's last window."

There was an implication of the future to that bet that did not sit well with Sinclair. The implication that inevitably something  _would_  have to give and Jaclyn thought – no, wanted – for it to be Ryan.

Dangerous thoughts to harbour, more perilous to act on and looking at the woman's profile now Sinclair thought she just might.

Being Fontaine's lackey was one thing. But with every passing day Jaclyn had more men on her personal payroll and not Fontaine's. Each day another into her employ, an enterprise all her own and without a sign to hang over the door. Ryan wouldn't look at her twice, she wasn't an investor or a visionary. But it was always the one you didn't think of that took that killing bite.

Quietly Sinclair let out a heavy breath and snuffed out his cigar. A weariness to his words followed. "I'll take you up on that bet." There was a spark of mirth in Jaclyn's gaze when she looked at him. A child indulged and amused in essence. "You won't like my play." He warned just as she'd warned him.

"I say Fontaine cracks before the first window."

She did not like it.

A slight twist to that smile until it neared a snarl. An unspoken  _never_  in those sharp eyes. But then is smoothed back into a spiteful little smirk. Just as much a gambler as Sinclair was and just as likely to rig the game.

"Only time will tell now won't it?"

 

…

…

 

The New Year came rolling in with the usual fanfare.

Up above there were champagne glasses touching lyrically and down below there were raucous carousing and even though those disorderly parties lacked the shine and polish of the upper ladies and men's decorum – they were what caught Jackie's eye in earnest.

But she'd found a middle ground on this night, because the lady at her side looked up with star struck eyes. Jackie knew that while she'd surely lose herself in the music and mayhem of those less lavish parties down below, but it was the polish that the lovely Jolene wanted more dearly.

So for Jasmine Jolene, Jackie became Jaclyn again.

When Jasmine looked up with the shine of a bright future she dreamed of in her eyes, Jaclyn only stared back at her. Wondering why that naïve, hopeful gleam appeared just flawless on this ditz's features to her, but when she caught in another's gaze it only seemed like a mark of an easy target.

"Ain't Rapture just the most stunnin' place on earth?" Jasmine asked, eyes fixated on the burning brights strung up overhead. She might have worked a stage in Eve's Garden, but it didn't hold a candle to Arcadia lit up on a new years eve.

Jaclyn's eyes did not drop from Jasmine's eyes as she gave a distracted answer. "It certainly is beautiful."

"Nice setting for a dance wouldn't you think?" Jasmine suggested, an attempt at subtly that failed on even a basic level.

Jaclyn snorted, tossing Jasmine a chastising look. "Still trying to get my dancing shoes on, huh?" Jasmine huffed, frustrated that she was yet to get Jaclyn to dance with her after having said she was no stranger to a stage when they'd first met.

Truly Jaclyn wouldn't have minded doing a number with Jasmine. It was just that she might have liked it a little too much and why torture herself when she couldn't have all she wanted? Then again, seeing the childish frustration Jasmine showed when refused was also an amusing consolation prize.

The thought made Jackie smile fondly, watching Jasmine closely.

Realising how open her mannerisms were and how her little shit of a brother would have chided her for a weakness that genuine, Jackie turned her eyes away from Jasmine and forced them to follow her gaze up into the treetops.

As much as the lights failed to keep her entranced as they had Jolene, she was able to admit that they were lovely in a detached sort of way. Rapture shone like a jewel but over time it had lost its novelty and she'd started to feel stifled.

A sentiment her brother didn't share in the slightest.

Even as Rapture's gates began to close inch by inch, Fontaine didn't so much as pause to ponder their new predicament. Ryan was going to bury them all down here and Frankie didn't seem half as interested in his next breath of fresh air as he did the next potential slight that could be made against Rapture's master.

Tossing around plasmids and other questionable practices. Jackie didn't care if he killed hundreds along the way, but she felt like he was being reckless. Endangering their own just as much. The thought of the woman sitting by her side being exposed to plasmids because Cohen found some twisted art in it all left her cold inside. Jackie wasn't sure if she could get away with killing Cohen but her brother might just force her hand here and there if his games got too out of hand. She didn't like that it felt she'd be cleaning up his messed by the end of this.

He was playing a game all his own and Jackie had already tired of it. It would not be right of her to clock out on her brother's fun just yet. So a little longer she could endure. If only to see Ryan's expression at the end.

Spite kept her and Frankie warm on plenty a night without cash in hand in the past…but tonight it did little to warm her. Instead her gaze stayed skyward, as much as one could look skyward in Rapture, and thoughts of what the trees up above the water might look like continued to plague her.

"Demons dancing on your thoughts, lovely?"

Jasmine's voice startled Jaclyn and when she made the mistake of turning her eyes back to the woman she was met with those disarming eyes and a little smile that came close to impish. As though she'd seen right thought Jaclyn who built her livelihood on being impossible to read.

Just this once she didn't feel like snapping the book shut again, instead wishing she could bare the words written across her mind bare to the other.

But it was a fool's fantasy. At best she'd ruin all she'd worked for, at worst she'd dismantle this façade of friendship in one horrible instant.

So rather than risk a dangerous truth, she told a kind lie. "Only a few." She mused mildly, kicking one leg up over the other with a wolfish smile of her own. "I don't reckon they'll do much harm."

This answer did not seem to sit well with her evening partner. Jaclyn realised this only when those pretty lips began to fall into a pout. Ah, yes of course. Jasmine never had been the 'let it lie' sort. Especially not when it came to foul moods.

Seeking to end whatever foolhardy attempt Jasmine would undoubtedly make to try an improve Jaclyn's mood, the woman set forward a new topic of discussion. "It's the new year, Jolene."

"And?"

Judging by that petulant tone she already knew where Jaclyn intended to take this train of thought. It did not dissuade her for so much as a moment. "Still looking at places in Mercury Suits?"

They both knew she didn't have the money.

Jasmine's pretty eyes dropped and lost some of their glimmer and for a second Jackie well and truly hated herself. In order to protect her own thoughts she'd gone right ahead and picked out sour ones for Jasmine. It was an old habit that she never once took a second thought of in the past – but when it was Jasmine's baby blues that became so wounded by her crassness – Jackie folded.

Reaching out with one hand Jackie touched Jasmine's gloved fingers. Such a simple contact gave her a thrill but she kept it to herself and pretended all she felt was the urge to comfort the woman she'd wounded with her words.

"Josie."

The pet name drew the woman's eyes back to Jackie's and when the attention was on her again, she slid on Jaclyn's sorry smile with the same ease, as Frankie became Fontaine. "I'm sorry, sweets." She murmured gently. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Ain't no fault of yours, Jackie." And hearing her real name from Jolene illicit the same response it always did. A delight that was equal parts trepidation and reckless abandon. Knowing it was something she should not have allowed but simultaneously craving every syllable.

Unawares, Jolene went on. "I thought by now I'd already have myself a swanky apartment up in the Heights." She mumbled, the pout returning. "Not that I don't make an alright living with what Cohen gives me. It's just…"

She had bigger dreams than that.

Jackie empathised easily. Her life had been a never ending climb for more, a climb she'd taught to Frankie and watched him take ahead of her. She'd become contented with a ledge they'd found but he was never happy if it wasn't the summit in sight.

Jolene only needed a less rickety ledge. Something that had less copper and more jewels for a pretty thing such as herself.

"Tell you what, sweets." Jaclyn began, making promises and ideas she couldn't possibly keep to. "You and I get a place!"

And once the absurd idea was put forward two things happened at once.

First Jackie's common sense and reasoning screamed in protest and second, she absolutely, unapologetically ignored it.

Frankie was building his own personal playground down here and while Jackie was amusing herself toying with a few lads here and there and playing the odd game with Sinclair – she was tiring of it all so quickly. Suddenly the fantasy of some little flat with Josie's singing and grating squeals at all hours of the day seemed like just the thing to kill that boredom.

Of course Jasmine would want fancy clothes and precious jewellery by the fistful – they were almost the same size, she could wear what Jackie liked to own but never adorned herself. She could get her a pretty view of Rapture's outer environment, sharks and fish to keep them entertained on dull days.

Jackie could give Jolene the things that Ryan  _wasn't._

She wanted to give Jasmine what Andrew – fucking – Ryan just wouldn't.

"Us?" Jasmine's shrill voice cried in astonishment. It was difficult to tell if that cry was of rejection or simply surprise. "But I- Jackie, lovely." Jasmine fumbled and Jackie's heart in turn began to sink.

Of course Jasmine didn't want that for herself.

She had fantasies of Ryan one day sweeping her off into the sunset. Thought one day he'd come and choose her over everything else. Over his position, his reputation, his  _fiancé._ Jackie knew it would never happen but she didn't crush those foolish dreams of Jasmine's, preferring her happy and oblivious to knowing and jaded.

In a sense, more like Jolene and less like herself. Better Jasmine never become like she was.

Without realising it Jackie had already started to disconnect and stop listening. Too irritated with her own stupidity to realise that Jolene was still talking. At least until the woman grasped her hand urgently. "Lovely? Lovely! Are you listening to me?"

"Ah…sorry. What was that?" Jackie asked dully, not meaning to fade out of focus but too disappointed to put great effort into pretending she hadn't.

"Does Mr. Fontaine really pay you that much?"

_Huh…?_

"Enough for a place like that? Even between both of us…oh I just don't know. I want to be able to support myself like Anna says but…"

She was…she was actually considering it.

Not just  _considering_  it, but actually trying to puzzle out how it would be done.

Jackie wasn't sure what it was she was feeling. That overwhelming rush of just  _everything_. Nerves, excitement, terror, joy, all of it felt like too much and all she could do was fuel it into a physical action as she squeezed Jasmine's hand back.

Excitement made her voice hasty, less like herself. More…sincere. "Don't you worry about that." She assured firmly. "I've been squirreling money away from the moment we set foot in Rapture. Not enough for the fancy high rises sure – but enough for a nice place out of the Artemis Suites."

Not Olympus Heights but somewhere better than this.

Jackie was searching Jasmine's gaze. Watching almost anxiously for some hint of a secret hesitance – but of course not. Josie was an open book and Jackie was met with nothing more than the other woman's excitement.

Too relieved and ecstatic to care what her brother might have to say about this foolishness, Jackie mustered up a beaming smile for Jasmine. "Roommates then?"

"Roommates!" Jasmine confirmed with a happy, authentic giggle. The sort of sound Ryan had sent her to elocution classes to rectify. The sort of sound that warmed Jackie's heart in a way she not thought possible since raising her brother.

The pair hadn't time to go over details, too stuck on the excitement of it all – like they were school girls again. It was only when a familiar tune came drifting through the gardens that Jackie was distracted from their chattering to make comment.

"But we will absolutely not have this playing in the apartment." She announced sternly, cringing as Beyond The Sea began to drone on again.

Jolene looked downright appalled. "Ain't ya got no sense of atmosphere, Jackie?"

"And I don't suppose ya don't think this little diddy has been done to death quite yet?" Jaclyn asked dryly in return, smile coy as Jolene tossed her a chastising look.

"Now none that out of you, lovely. It's a fine little number."

"If just a touch on the nose." Jaclyn ventured, the pair sharing an equally scandalised sort of smile without a touch of ill will to it.

But never one to pass the opportunity up, Jaclyn offered the fine little number she preferred, her hand. "To usher in the new year." She supplied when met with a look of surprise and trepid excitement from her partner. "And a new living arrangement." She added for good measure.

The eagerness with which Jasmine stood onto those pretty heels was truly flattering. Anything for that dance she'd been trying to get out of Jackie since they met.

She'd never truly appreciate how much Jackie savoured and cherished the simple touches and close quarters of a dance provided. Similarly she'd probably never understand quite how much Jackie could be selfish and selfless in all she did for her. Knowing Jasmine only had eyes for Ryan, Jackie never intended to let her know.

Let Josie think of her as the sweetest friend she'd ever known and nothing more. That could be enough.

It was the most altruistic Jackie had ever been and she swore it was a one off. Just for her Josie and no one else. An exception to her cruelty, this naïve flower.

So when Jasmine slipped a hand into hers and allowed Jackie close, taking advantage did not once cross her mind, just the faint satisfaction in knowing she'd been able to make Jasmine's smile positively glow once again.

And for as much as the music droned and lacked the usual melody she'd have swayed her body to – Jackie let the music help guide the little dance and whispered to Jasmine, "Don't tell a soul." The blonde giggled thinking it was Jackie simply being embarrassed about the dance again but Jackie knew better.

Don't tell a soul, because this is just for you.

You are special.

 

…

…

 

Only time indeed.

The New Year had come creeping in and with it the usual festivities. Sinclair for a change was not among them. He had plans to go out and enjoy a bit of light socialising of course – but not before a guest had come calling outside of a planned meeting.

Unfortunately Sinclair found himself in Fontaine's presence more than he'd like to be.

It was nothing personal against the man and there were certainly not business problems between them. Fontaine was his best customer Ryan a close second and Ryan hated his guts. Not enough to lose sight of his precious industry, but enough that doing business with him face to face left a sour look on the great man's face.

Sinclair imagined he'd wear much the same expression hearing Fontaine's name popping up more and more often day after day.

But for as much as he and Fontaine did good business, Sinclair had become rather weary of him. Distancing himself from a potential endangerment. He was not afraid of Fontaine - but they all knew the man was a crook. Sinclair had no interest getting himself in a position where Fontaine's dealings might be the final nudge he needed to see Ryan's distaste for him moved to a more serious problem.

Nevertheless, Fontaine stood by his window much the same as his lovely lady had only a few days prior and just as Miss Wayne so often came to him with Fontaine as the topic, Fontaine came with her name on his mind.

This was new to Sinclair and unexpected.

It was suspicious. Potentially a weakness to be exploited if only Sinclair could puzzle out what exactly it was that drove the pair behind the scenes. Most would think they were having an affair but Sinclair didn't get that impression in the slightest.

Though that may have been wistful thinking on his part.

"My best man tells me Miss Wayne has been coming 'round a lot recently." Fontaine explained with a casualness about him that was entirely fabricated.

Again Sinclair was reminded that the game he may have foolishly started to play was one that could end in blood. Best to be careful and not overstep his bounds too early. They still had a positively wonderful working relationship - plenty of money to be made out of the other. But those things could so quickly sour.

"Indeed she has." Sinclair answered easily. The truth already out and not about to be stored neatly away. He was beginning to wonder exactly how closely Fontaine watched the lovely lady. like they lived in each other's back pockets. She certainly watched him like a hawk, or rather those around him. Awaiting any chance she saw to tear them down should she so much as suspect they might trouble him.

Were all Sinclair's workers half as devoted life would be an easy sail. Though he could not blame them for not being like Jaclyn. On account of her very likely insanity. Always the pretty ones.

Fontaine glanced him. An almost friendly, certainly amicable, look on his face. With one hand in his pocket and the other around a cigar he looked the perfect image of the approachable businessman. A rather convincing farce. "And what has been the topic of conversation exactly?" He asked, voice holding that thick Boston drawl.

"This and that."

It was a coy answer, one he should have thought twice about giving but it slipped out. Perhaps too easy a way to spite Fontaine to be passed up. There was a flicker of something on the man's expression but Sinclair was not quick enough to catch its meaning.

To Fontaine's credit, his tone did not shift an inch when he pushed for a better answer. "Social visits are they? Can't imagine what she'd be doing here, keeping your company."

It was in that moment Sinclair realised something very amusing. Where he had so easily brushed aside the possibility that there was anything of a sordid nature between Fontaine and Wayne - the man did not so easily push away the thought in regards to him.

Sinclair laughed, a hearty chuckle that pulled a faintly irritable look from the once smiling face of his current guest. "Believe you me, Miss Wayne would sooner have my life than my company."

Fontaine put on an amused smile of his own, it hung crooked on his face and for the life of him Sinclair couldn't have told you if it was genuine or not. "Cold fish that one, eh?" He ventured and Sinclair knew better than to breath a foul word, traps were often difficult to spot - that one was not.

Once realising Sinclair had chosen to remain expertly silent on the topic, Fontaine turned his gaze back over to the window. "Neons really are popular aren't they?" He commented idly, recalling Ryan commenting on how they lit up the city. Really they'd become rather gaudy.

A beat of silence passed between both men, the glow of the city meeting with the slowly dying butts of cigars in the small office and Sinclair found his own gaze lingering on the glass.

A fish tank, huh?

"As it were…" Sinclair began, eyes decidedly not on Fontaine though he heard the man's suit shift slightly as he turned to face him once more. "Miss Wayne has herself some...let's say, 'reservations' about the plasmid business. I'd be thinking that a problem best taken up with you if at all."

It felt as though he were crossing some unspoken agreement when he spoke next and whatever devil had possessed him to loosen his tongue in the presence of this particular devil was beyond him. "Seems to think the concept might be a tad dangerous around the likes of Rapture. Glass walls and all. Though we know regulation is just not the Rapture way. I do wonder if others will share her concerns."

Fontaine's reaction became crucial to Sinclair. He had to know where he stood between these two and in order to know that he had to know where both stood on one another. Fontaine could have brushed that aside with ease, but instead the man frowned and became thoughtful for just the shortest moment.

It was a moment too long.

Then finally the easygoing, sleazy smile made a reappearance along with a shrug that rung hollow. "Plasmids are a leap, there'll be plenty of people hesitating on taking that jump. Ain't nothing worth pondering."

Sinclair watched Fontaine with a private scrutiny for a moment and when his own smile returned, it was just as hollow as Fontaine's posturing.

That last window they'd discussed seemed all the more fragile in that moment. 

Only time to tell.


	13. Audio Diary: The Way Things Are.

Before the radio had even fully started up there were words. Shouting that had begun before the recording could catch up and only managed to hold the memory of the end of the initial cursing.

_“- well ain’t that just fuckin’ like him!”_

Something on the other side of the recording came crashing to the ground with a thunderous crash. The sound only surpassed by the furious words being shouted over it. “Wait until I almost have her, and then he goes and pulls her strings again! That vile, pathetic little bastard!”

“Well, looks like living the dream is a bust.” The woman sighed, the sound harsh and resentful. “Had myself looking around for just the perfect place. All ready to shack up I was. Then Ryan. Andrew _fucking_ Ryan comes a waltzing on in and dismantles all my plans in a heartbeat. With a snap of his fingers.” The sharp snap of the woman’s own accompanied the bitter words.

“Just like that plan’s off. Not that I should be surprised any, Josie’s face just lit up when she came to tell me. Got a fancy suite she always wanted, all because Ryan comes to visit her at night. But I can’t fault her for takin’ it. Much better place than I could ‘ave gotten her.”

Some of the rage bled away and there was a deep seeded sort of grief to that tone. Pity perhaps. For herself or for the Josie that she knew was living in a world all her own with no hopes of those dreams becoming realities.

Once the anger had turned cold there was nothing but that heavy heartache settling in. So few things in Rapture held onto that spark. Be it joy or wrath – the water dulled all edges given enough time. The silence here was one of idle acceptance and regret.

But there was nothing to be done about it. Certainly not now that so many years had passed between the day this had been recorded and the day the audio diary had found itself wedged under a particular bench in Arcadia.

Left there almost as a reminder of a time before the memory had soured. 

She began again, slower, weary. “Well...suppose I ought ta look at this objectively.” A slight shifting signaling she’d plucked up the radio diary to finish it with a little closing thought.   
  
“Least I ain’t have to breathe a word to my brother ‘bout it.”

The audio diary quietly powered down and was left in that same spot where the memory had once been a dazzling one.


	14. The Rules of Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all read the tags.

Needless to say, after Ryan had gone and ruined Jackie's little fantasy – the woman was in an incredibly foul mood the following few days.

Fontaine noticed of course, hard not to when Jackie brought down the mood of any room she entered and how much faster she was to anger. He hadn't seen her pull a gun on someone in such record time for years now. Fortunately the trigger was never pulled, just some viciously hissed words for the man to make himself scarce and once he scampered off Jackie turned her anger onto inanimate objects instead.

Truly it was more self control than Frankie thought he could attribute to her.

Then at night Jackie had started to return to Eve's Garden. Somehow thinking that seeing her favourite show would make the loss sting a little less. How she thought seeing the object of her frustration again so soon after the loss would help was beyond reason.

But it became her default and Jackie was visiting Jasmine's nightly entertainment more often. Too often.

It seemed her brother had gathered enough suspicion and certainty to finally confront her. And he had to do it just as she was heading out.

Typical.

"Now where do you think you're off to at this time of night?" That was the tone of a disapproving father if ever Jackie had heard one.

She was sure the actual man would have paled in comparison to the glare Frank had on his mug at that exact moment. Of course their only memories of a father came from that wretched man that had shacked up with Jackie's mother only to dump both his stepchild and legitimate son into an orphanage the moment she passed away. Jackie didn't have much to say for parents. Although she'd been accused of being an overbearing mother type by Frank from time to time.

Her response was short, to the point and wholly unhelpful. "Out."

Judging by the way Frank's eyebrows knitted together tightly, irritation creeping in behind his stare, this was not a satisfactory answer.

"Right, that I had gathered." He muttered heatedly and Jackie recognized this as the beginning to an argument. They had so few; it was incredibly easy to spot one brewing.

Her first warning ought to have been Reggie's absence.

He had the good sense to clear out when the pair began to bicker. His immunity wasn't in play when both siblings were liable to pull a gun on him with a cross word gone too far.

"What I _fail_ to understand is what you think you're doing prancing around that glorified whore house all hours o' the night."

Instead of giving him a proper answer, Jackie sneered and replied. "Oh, so you do know where I am going. Now why ever did you ask?"

This may have been a step too far, tone just a bit too impish. She was sure that a blood vessel was going to just pop inside of her brother's shiny, little head.

Rather than start shouting, which he no doubt wanted to, Frank attempted to hold onto some façade of calm. "It's not safe." He said slowly, words a tight hiss.

"Now how's that? You reckon that you've stepped on so many toes already that people are going to give a shit about your book keeper?" She watched her brother struggle for the words to argue his point. Watching the anger and frustration all boiling together as he scowl turned deeper and darker with every silent second that passed.

For the first time in what must have been her entire life, Jackie felt a tug of shame in her chest. Sometimes she could forget that her little brother was still capable of those gentler human emotions. His efforts to rid himself of them were rather successful but there were moments like this where they both remembered he still was flesh and blood.

And that he worried about her just as much as she worried for him.

But Jackie was no child and being babied on top of all the other headaches she dealt with since coming to Rapture did nothing to sooth her ruffled nerves.

She did not like Rapture. Not at all, despite all its beauty she found the city was beginning to feel claustrophobic and she knew perfectly well that she wasn't alone on that front. Ryan had shut them off from the surface fully and it had finally started to feel real to many of them.

Being a part of the unwashed masses in any way left her furious. Stupid her.

Jackie was livid with herself for being such a weak willed wretch and her anger at herself turned onto her brother in record time. "While you're out there having the time of your damn life playing around in Ryan's wretched city, I'm stuck bored out of my skull with only some working boys to twist around my fingers for entertainment. So yeah, I like to go out and see the girls dancing every other night. I don't see a fucking problem with that."

Neither of them were particularly good at curbing their nasty tempers, especially not when it came to one another. After all even the best actor needed a moment to let out all that pent up honesty.

"Of course you don't see the problem." Frank shot back, reaching his wits end as he gave up keeping his composure and ended up shouting right back at his sister. "You never think ahead. You're reckless, thoughtless, how like you – running off like a stupid brat thinking you can just do whatever you damn well please. You don't think these things through, Jackie."

" _Oh?"_

That single word was like a slap to the face and immediately Frank stopped talking. A weaker man would have even fled, but Fontaine was no weak man and so he stayed right where he was, awaiting the inevitable onslaught.

He was not made to wait long.

"Is that right?" Jackie's voice dropped abruptly, turning icy and soft. Regret briefly flashed across Frank's face and were his pride not so great he might have even stepped back from his seething sister once registering that tone. "I don't _think_ , do I brother?" She continued quietly, sharp eyes fixed on Frank's uneasy expression. "Now isn't that a right laugh, I don't suppose you remember the years I put into your sorry hide."

"Sis, I…"

Those words were to be some attempts to pacify her no doubt, but Jackie went right on ahead, cutting across her brother's vain attempts at appeasing her.

"You listen here runt and you listen good. You wouldn't have a fucking thing without me. You'd be right back in that orphanage if I hadn't worked my ass off to get you out of it, if I hadn't taught you everything you god damn know. You ought to be thanking me! Without me you wouldn't even be here, been one hell of a long road and you don't even remember half of it because you were just a babe for most of it."

There was a pause in the angry words, but what came after was no better than what had come before it. "I think you're forgetting exactly who you're talking to and who exactly _you_ are – gotten a bit too lost in 'Fontaine' have you?"

At the implication that he'd lost control of his own con, Frank's anger returned. Just as nasty and spiteful as her own.

The hesitation on his face melted away being replaced with a snarl. "Fine! You want to waste your time with some of Cohen's two-bit whores? Be my guest, see if you get a damn thing out of it!"

Briefly Josie's face flashed across Jackie's mind. Both a painful image and one she instinctively rose to defend. Her brother had no idea surely, but this did nothing to calm Jackie's immediate reaction.

Turning her back on him and stalking towards the door, but of course Frank had never been the type to let the last word or blow slip away from him. A fault they shared.

"Family comes first don't it?" He barked and every single nerve in Jackie's body positively exploded alight in fury.

_He dared?_

He dared to throw that into her face right now. It was her one good thing; her one constant in a shitty world and Frank used it against her?

Knowing he'd pricked a nerve when Jackie stopped to stand deathly still with her hand on the doorknob, Frank pressed on with a cruel smirk. "That's what you always told me and we don't lie to each other do we? Said so yourself countless times. But you're not exactly acting like a family girl recently. You been telling me lies all this time, sis?" The haughty tone that rolled over Frank's tongue with those words found Jackie's breaking point.

Anger so hot and vivid boiled up under Jackie's skin that for a moment she very sincerely thought it would burn her alive. Turning back towards him in one sharp twist, Jackie bore daggers into her brother with her eyes. "Well fancy that, he does know we're bleeding family." Jackie snarled and somewhere deep in the back of her mind where a conscience must have existed in some capacity or another, some little thread of common sense said – this is the type of anger that makes people say things they cannot undo.

"But you must have forgotten." Jackie sneered from the doorway, eyeing her brother with a level of contempt that he'd not seen directed at him before in all his life. Not from his sister.

"I ain't your damn sister in Rapture."

The door shut with a thunderous bang. The echo of the door's glass rattling, cracking in places was the loudest of all however. The spider cracks that appeared even after the initial bang had sounded out made quiet creaks and snaps. The noise of things giving out under pressure and once those fell still there was left only a deafening silence in their wake.

Regret likely did not have a sound, but this silence seemed adequate.

…

…

"Oh honey, you look dreadful!" Josie's shrill voice was a welcome relief, although Jackie did wince against the grate of her high-pitched squeal. It might have been the most observant Jolene had ever been that she noticed the flinch and softened her voice. Those vocal lessons certainly had not been wasted on her thought Jackie found herself no gladder for them.

A weak smile wormed its way onto her lips when looking up into Josie's pretty face. Queasy but feeling better the closer the blonde haired blue eyed angel was, Jackie managed to actually genuinely mean that smile.

"Ain't you just a visage from heaven." Jackie murmured, clearly far beyond the point of a little bit tipsy. She needed to be in order to come here and see Josie again while still nursing her wounds from the hope she had dashed by Ryan. She still felt sore over the whole thing.

Jolene's pretty face pinched tightly in concern and likely too disapproval. With a small huff that did little more than heave Josie's breasts, the woman slid down next to Jackie, taking hold of the moping woman's head and pulling her down into an awkward hug. Jackie didn't resist and was rewarded for her compliance by having her head resting against Josie's chest.

Drunkenly Jackie thought that she wouldn't have minded if she dropped dead right then and there. Josie was warm and soft, and Jackie knew she was being spoiled even if the woman holding her didn't know exactly how.

"Tell Josie _all_ about it, lovely." Jolene murmured in a compassionate purr and Jackie didn't think herself capable of refusing the woman anything in that moment. Perhaps ever.

That did not mean she was willing to be one hundred percent up front of the gal of course. "Had a spat." She mumbled, eyes sliding shut as she melted into Josie's warm body. "Stupid, stupid spat with a stupid, stupid brat."

Once the words started they didn't stop. The faucet had been turned and Jackie showed no sign of running dry any time soon. "That lil' shit thinks he's king o' the damn world. Well he ain't, not yet anyway, not even close. But of course that don't stop him do it? Thinks he can order me around, what I do for him I do because I love his stupid, sorry ass. Not because he's the one in charge."

Jackie ranted, not as heated as she'd been when shouting at Frank but no less vicious. Although her words were sloppier now with alcohol buzzing in her brain and Josie's soft skin under her fingers.

All the while Josie ran her fingers through Jackie's hair. She liked her hair, always had. Which Jackie always found amusing seeing as she thought it was Josie's hair that was woven like strands of gold. But it was a pleasant feeling, those deft fingers passing gently over her scalp, occasionally stopping to massage.

Before long the rants were dying off and Jackie might as well have been purring for all the coherency in her quiet mumbles.

Finally when it seemed Jackie's words had dismantled enough to no longer be considered human speech, Josie spoke again. She'd showed more restraint than Jackie previously thought possible of the naturally chatty lass. "Oh, Jackie. Woes with a man is it, lovely?" She guessed, likely not getting much else from the drunken woman's ramblings. "Been mistreating you?"

Christ if she wasn't the saddest sack of shit this side of Rapture.

Jackie felt disgusted with her own pitiful display, but at the same time Josie's sympathy felt mind-numbingly good. "Something like that." She answered with a tired sigh, not feeling up to explaining to Josie that a man was never going to be the one warming her bed and that her issue was of a family nature.

After all Jaclyn Wayne had no family to take issue with.

Never in all her life had Jackie grown sick of the lie. She'd been so many different lies but it was miss Jaclyn Wayne that found her feeling stretched too thin. So to hear even one other person call her Jackie instead of Jaclyn was a welcome relief and she could not think of anyone she'd rather hear calling her name than Jolene.

"What you need is a sweet man." Josie was telling her. Talking about the merits of a 'good man' with all the conviction of a judge holding court. "One that treats you just right, treats you like a real princess."

"Queen." Jackie corrected absent-mindedly, not really listening to exactly what the woman under her arms was saying so much as relaxing into the sound of her talking. But even with that distance Jackie knew she'd much rather be treated as a queen than a princess. Doting was all well and good but Jackie wasn't some little girly so the effort would be wasted on her.

"If you like." Josie relented before her tone took on that unbearably sunny note it always adopted when this particular topic surfaced. "Need to find yourself a gentleman like Andrew!"

Oh _Christ_.

Abruptly all of Jackie's comfort sapped out of her, leaving nothing but bitterness in its wake.

It was something of a slap to the face whenever Josie said Ryan's name in that overly familiar, puppy dog love kind of voice. She did not want to hear a damn thing about Ryan but it was something of Jolene's favorite topic and once she'd started…

"He's a real sweetheart that one. All gentle with me for such a powerful man! Imagine it, being the gal of a man like Andrew Ryan…"

While Jolene looked dreamily upwards, Jackie tried to contain the rising bile in her throat. Hadn't the night been bad enough? Hadn't she put up with enough from all sides by this point?

"Can't fucking take this." Grumbling Jackie heaved herself upright, stumbling unbalanced away from a surprised Jolene.

"Jackie, darling, where are you going?" Jasmine asked, voice taking on that absurd note of concern she sometimes got. Like she was Jackie's bleeding mother.

There was absolutely nothing maternal in the way Jackie thought of Jasmine.

"Oh please sit back down." She pleaded, reaching out feebly to try and stop Jackie who jerked away from her outstretched hand as though it had turned into some vile, venomous creature right before her eyes.

"Oh would you just shut up!" The words were coming out, hot and angry. Not at all like the icy fury she'd thrown into her brother's face, not at all calculated. Just a breaking point overflowing into speech. "Do you ever hear the inane shit that comes out of your trap, huh?" Jackie demanded, her every dissatisfaction and bitter thought coming out in that moment and with only Jolene around to take it.

"Christ, what the hell do you think this is? Some fairytale where a rich guy is going to just whisk you the hell away? Nah, nah, love. This here is _Rapture_ – a glorified slug to an underwater grave. There ain't no fucking fairytale endings here, just a long cold nothing at the end."

Jasmine was recoiling from her now. Those pretty blue eyes of her wide and glassy. Jackie only realised once the last word had ripped out of her throat that this was because Jolene was about to cry.

That was sobering.

An icy slap to the face that brought Jackie back upright and for a moment she had clarity enough to feel a repulsive feeling of regret clawing its way into the pit of her stomach. "Josie…"

What she wouldn't have given to be a better person in that moment. To be a stronger woman, to be someone good enough to swallow their pride, apologize and beg they be forgiven.

Unfortunately Jackie was not that person and no amount of lies, cons or acts was going to disguise that fact for long. Better Jasmine see that now and be done with it.

So instead of offering the apologies she wanted to be able to say, Jackie turned tail and fled. Marching off in the direction of the doors, Jackie could hear the exact moment Jolene found her nerve again and tried calling after her. Most people wouldn't have called for her with such concern in their voice after having been so wrongfully abused by her.

This was worse, because Jasmine really did have a good heart and for a moment Jackie truly hated her for it. She felt shame coiling tightly in her chest. Imagine that, her jealous of a call-girl because she could summon up even the faintest shred of human decency where Jackie could not.

Stumbling drunkenly out of Eve's Garden Jackie took the first corner she could find. Worried that Jolene's kindheartedness would have her following, she'd rather not be found again by the woman when she was such a wreck herself. It was a weakness that had been all too encouraged by her argument with Frank and the copious amounts of alcohol she'd drowned herself in.

Rapture blurred around her, the lights and wild sounds of Fort Frolic mingling together to become little more than a frenzied mess around her. Jackie felt sick to her stomach, expecting she'd throw up at some point between here and the bathysphere back to the office. Likely she would have had her legs not given out from under her only three steps further.

Knowing she ought to take it a little slower and that she'd successfully taken enough turns to lose Josie should she try to follow, Jackie let herself fall limp against the wall she'd stopped by. She ended up collapsed against it, struggling just to keep her breathing even.

 _What a night._ Jackie thought sourly, every ounce of her bitterness being directed at herself this time. _Two good things in your life, and you managed to bite both their heads off. Excellent job._

Sinking to the ground Jackie tried to balance herself against the wall, dragging in heavy gulps of air. She'd been plenty inebriated in her time, plenty hung over too. But tonight the world was slipping away from her in a different way.

Distantly she thought back to those few occasions her and Frank had gotten hold of things just a little sweeter than alcohol to take an edge off. She'd never quite enjoyed that particular pastime and quickly dropped the habit. Frank still partook in the odd session or two but it was agreed upon between them that they'd rather not be completely brainless when managing so many different lies.

Rapture mixed and matched all sorts of poisons but she didn't think she'd taken anything besides her usual choice that night. Granted she did not remember what each drink had been or where they'd appeared from. Having gotten so accustomed to constantly having one within reach when Timmy was working the bar, but he hadn't been working that night had he? She certainly hadn't seen him. Was he even still employed there or had she already pulled him away? She couldn't remember, couldn't _think._

Jackie wasn't quite in her own skull when someone approached her.

The footsteps not at all elegant or quiet but Jackie didn't take notice of the other person's presence until they were right in front of her and speaking. Squinting Jackie tried to make out the person's face and their words before immediately decided she didn't actually care to know either of those things.

Snarling Jackie opened her mouth to say something along the lines of buzz off – thinking to at least not to immediately dive into the more vicious curses. Likely this guy was just curious to know what this mess of a woman was doing just sitting against some corner in Rapture.

Except whatever came out was distinctly not buzz off and didn't even seem to be words at all. Sounded like a jumbled mess to her own ears and Jackie knew that whatever she'd said was gibberish to the stranger as well because they laughed. This might have been pardonable – after all who wouldn't laugh at this mad bitch's stupor – but then the man went that little step further and grabbed Jackie's face. Likely trying to get a better look at her.

The result went both ways and even though Jackie's world was a touch blurry, she recognized this guy. Yeah that's right…one of the fisheries boys. It was his smile that gave him away; he had the shiniest teeth of all the lads. It was a common joke around the watering hole that he must have brushed them with bleach each night. Honestly they were a little bit ridiculous, certainly far beyond simply looking clean. Damn things practically glowed whenever he opened his mouth. She distantly recalled him being one of Frank's smugglers, the type that had more brawn than brains and none of the endearing qualities that Reggie made up this shortcoming with. But regardless of for narcissistic and block headed as he was, Jackie did need the help.

Leery as he might be, Jackie felt fairly secure knowing he worked for her brother. Besides the boys that hauled in fish, bibles and carousels, depending on what end of the legal spectrum they were currently working, all seemed to be fairly obedient to her now days as well. The occasional echo of a catcall or unwarranted sizing up of her assets, but nothing malicious or too overbearing. Jackie saw no reason to believe this one would be any different.

Thinking that perhaps this was for the best, Jackie began to try and work her words correctly. She might as well ask the lad to get her back to the fisheries seeing as she was clearly making no progress there herself.

Except when she finally felt as though she'd mastered the art of human speech once again, the arrogant lad thought he was allowed to press his thumb against her bottom lip. Part of Jackie thought he ought to have tasted as shit as his attitude suggested but rather than iron or dust his skin tasted just like anyone else's, just a bit of salt at worst.

Well if he was going to be a boorish fucker then Jackie wasn't going to be civil either.

Jackie scowled at the cocky bastard before jamming her foot as roughly as she could against their shin, which was when she noticed precisely how close they were to be in kicking range. Which lead into the next obvious thought of – he'd been close enough to touch her.

This was too close.

There was no more laughter, cursing taking its place. The words were low and angry, but about as nonsensical to Jackie as her own mumblings had been. When the hand returned this time it was not quite as gentle as it had been the first time. The punch Jackie ought to have expected, to have braced for but it caught her by surprise. Seemed to rattle her brain in her skull and for a dreadful second a resigned part at the back of her mind considered this just punishment for having been such a right fool that night.

But when the abusing hand returned for a second time to grab at her face, the rest of Jackie decided one sock to the eye was punishment enough and she buried her teeth into the fucker's hand.

The result was a giving of flesh that was as satisfying as it was disgusting. Coppery blood filled her mouth and Jackie cringed when she felt part of the man's hand actually come away under her teeth, flopping uselessly in her mouth. She spat it out in an instant and damn near tossed up the rest of her lunch with it.

Beyond the surge of revulsion Jackie caught the sounds of the man shouting something. A moment later she felt him kick her and as Jackie hit the wall she'd previously been leaning against she tried to stand back up. Only to find her legs were about as useful as sacks of jelly. Uselessly she stumbled and landed winded on her side. The man might not have been the strongest guy this side of Rapture but he sure as hell had some fine steel tipped boots to knock the air out of her with.

Jackie expected a beating, expected a fight if she had it her way. But when those hands returned, one bloodied and missing a portion of flesh, they did not go for her throat as Jackie had expected they would have. Rather they seemed more interested in her clothes. In pulling at them until a button popped away or a seam tore.

For the second time that night clarity returned to Jackie as a slap to the face.

This one brought with it fear she hadn't experienced since she was still just a child. The fight she would have preferred became a struggle, desperate and terrified as she kicked and bit wherever she could. Seemed this man for all his inelegance did not make the same mistake twice. Jackie's teeth found nothing to bite down besides the worn leather of the man's belt. A few more knocks to the head and Jackie might as well have just left her body behind, would have preferred it if she'd been able to black out once the struggle had plainly been lost. But unfortunately consciousness would not leave her and so she remained trapped there.

And all she could think was that there were two good things in her life and three laws of Rapture. Two good things and three laws.

The five things that ought to have given her some peace but failed to that night. The three rules of Rapture that everyone knew still stood in the underwater city.

You do not steal. You do not kill. You do not rape.


	15. Tight Knots

Never before in his life had Frank ever actually wanted to put a bullet right into Reggie's skull. "Want to run that one by me once more?" He seethed, wholly aware of how cold his voice had become.

But today just might be the day.

It was unfair to unload all his anger onto Reg, but he was the only one here and Fontaine had never been greatly acquainted with the concept of fairness.

Reggie was a strong one, which was why he was worth the scratch Frank paid him, but he still took a few steps away from his boss in that moment. Hands raised carefully as though that alone would be able to pacify Fontaine, who was quickly beginning to forget why exactly his gun was not currently drawn.

"Boss." He began, words shaky with something other than fear. "Deep breaths, boss." Frank latched onto that other foreign emotion that was not fear and used it as motivation not to shoot his best man, borderline friend. That was anger in Reggie's words. Somewhere buried deep under his fear and shaken nerves, somewhere he was burning away – perhaps even more livid than Fontaine was quickly becoming.

Because he _knew_.

He knew the extent of the crime – while Fontaine was yet to be made privy to that particular piece of information. Hence his itching desire to pull his pistol.

Reggie took one look at Fontaine's posture, at where his hand was lingering and continued. "You gotta keep your head, boss." He spoke as gently as a man like himself could muster. "Anger isn't going to get you nowhere this time."

"My sis." Frank ground out each word slowly. "Where is she?"

Hesitation was clear on Reggie's face but then slowly resignation set in and his arms fell lax at his sides. "Steinman 'as been with her for an hour." Was his answer. Not a location but something at the very least.

Part of Frank startled hearing the doctor's name. In part because the man was likely mad as a dog and partly because it meant the physical damage was severe enough to require a doctor.

Frank Fontaine saw red.

It was all he could see. Couldn't even make out Reggie's terrified expression when he grabbed a fist full of the man's shirt and dragged him forward in a single violent jerk. "A name." He demanded sharply and when Reggie failed to produce one immediately Frank's remaining patience snapped. "Give me a damn _name,_ Reggie or the bullet I'm saving for 'im is going to get spent on you!"

Through the haze of red and thoughts of what he would do once the name was provided, Frank was only just able to catch a glimpse of Reggie's darkening expression. "She didn't say. Wasn't in much of a state to…" Frank's gun was pulled out and Reggie allowed that train of thought to come to a firm standstill.

Likely the only thing keeping Reggie safe from that bullet was the hollowed on his face in that moment. Because it had been him that found her. It was Reggie that saw the extent of the damage and dragged her back to safety. Back home.

With a deep, steadying breath Reggie chose to move straight on to the point. "Reckon I know the guy." He said instead, already aware Frank was not going to like the answer one bit. Although there was really no answer that would have done anything to lessen the severity of the situation in Fontaine's eyes, or dampen the violence with which he responded with. Reggie didn't have half a mind to try and lessen that violent inclination.

"Good. We're going now. Right now." Frank began, his words hurried and clipped, but abruptly he was brought up short when Reggie's firm hand pulled him to a halt.

Surprised and edging back towards shooting the hired muscle Frank inched his head back to scowl at Reggie, who in turn simple stared back at him. "What do you think you're doing, Reg?" He asked lowly, daring the man to take one more step over the line he was balancing on.

However, Reggie did in fact speak again. "I will get the sorry bastard." He told Frank gravely and there was that note of anger once again that assured him Reggie meant every word. "Drag 'im to your feet if you like. But you ought to stay here, boss." There was a pause and then a sigh that nearly surprised Frank more than the man's sudden spine. "You're needed here, boss. I did all I could…nothing more I can do here."

Grim understanding slowly rolled over Frank and for all his desires to simply march on out there and find the man responsible – Reggie made a good point.

Damn him for it.

Jerking free of Reggie's now slack grip Frank shot the man one more scowl for good measure even as he relented to his reason. "I took her up to your room, boss." Only now did he give a location, evidentially feeling his employer calm enough not to make the situation worse. "What do you want me to do when I find the bastard?"

A thousand separate answers presented themselves all at once and for a second Frank did not know what he wanted. That was a new feeling. But after sorting through a few of those answers he settled on one that would suffice for now. "Drag him to my feet." He repeated as though that was obvious thing in the world and for just a moment he caught a slight upward twitch of a smile Reggie's face.

"You got it, boss." And just like that Reggie was turning, leaving to do as instructed. Not a moment of hesitation in his stride but in his ready departure, Fontaine was left standing on his own.

He ought to have left immediately, but Frank found himself unable. Part of him wanted nothing more than to break out into a mad dash, to get himself back to his room as fast as was humanly possible. But another part of himself refused to take a single step in any direction. Certainly not a direction that would take him closer to the situation.

It was fear.

A horrible, foreign fear he'd never experienced before that locked his legs up tight and kept him from going to the only place that mattered. Frank had not been properly afraid since he was just a boy for heaven's sake.

When he'd been afraid as a child it was his sister was the one that sat on the edge of his bed and mocked him until he was able to feign bravery. Her teasing was often relentless, with promises of leaving him to brave the dark alone to toughen him up if he didn't sleep like a big boy.

As a boy Frank had been most afraid of those threats, terrified of what it might be like to truly be alone.

But Fontaine was _not_ that boy anymore. Hadn't been for years. He understood now why it was she did those things. Not out of tenderness surely, she'd scoff at the notion no doubt. No, it was done to make him the man he was now. Someone who did not need anyone by their side to get by, to not cave to any fear or need any comfort. She'd worked to make him as he was, it would be a disservice to name that as love.

And yet once he was pretending to sleep, unfailingly Jackie would stay.

She just sat there and waited till he fell asleep, occasionally humming familiar tunes or patting back his hair. There were times where Frank woke up to her still there, nodding off with her head resting on her palm. Never having left his side despite her taunts. Her presence chased away the nightmares and fears of an unwanted boy in an orphanage.

He never thanked her and she never acknowledged it as a small act of love.

Frank wasn't that unwanted orphan anymore, but Jackie had never stopped being his sister. The memory unlocked his legs and he moved.

 

 

…

…

 

 

Jackie ached.

She was not drunk enough to justify this heavy aching in her bones.

Groaning quietly Jackie attempted to return to her senses, to come out of whatever death like state she'd fallen into rather than sleep. Blearily she managed to crack her eyes open and was met with a dim light that still managed to make her wince as her head throbbed horribly.

Still trapped under the weight of an uncomfortable sleep Jackie next tried to make sense of her surroundings. Tried to remember where she was, why she was there, why everything felt like it was somehow off. As though everything in the world had just shifted a few shades off and now nothing seemed quite right.

Moving was no easy ask but eventually Jackie made to do just that. Growing more uncomfortable the longer her stiff limbs remained stationary. However when she attempted to get up she was met with resistance.

A weight across her lap that was the source of all the warmth and further discomfort. It took her a moment to recognize what that dead weight across her legs actually was.

"Oh Christ, _Frankie_ …" Jackie croaked, swatting at her brother's head. "You're like a damn furnace, get off of me."

It was only as the final word came sluggishly off her tongue that Jackie truly _heard_ herself for the first time. Sounded like a disaster, as though there was more rocks scrapping around in her throat than there was air.

This thought held importance in her head for all of roughly five seconds because when she looked to her brother and found his eyes were red, suddenly he was the only thing in the whole room. In the whole damn world.

"Frankie…'ave you been crying?"

And he looked at her like he'd just watched the entire world just crumble around him.

Jackie might have asked again, might have expressed her confusion but then she noticed her arms. Wrapped up tight in white cotton, stained red and yellow in places.

Then the aching returned.

A dull thud in the back of her brain and soreness around her midsection. A kick her mind vaguely supplied. Then there was an acute pain. A deep-seated ache nestled between her legs.

Oh.

She did not know she was crying until Frank's arms were around her.

Tightening to nearly crushing levels, but once he was there Jackie couldn't let him go again. Sore fingers reaching up to clutch desperately at her brother's suit. It was disheveled, more so than he'd ever allowed since coming to Rapture. As though he'd run some great distance and messed it all up – never stopping to give it enough thought to right his appearance.

With his arms looped firmly around his sister's shaking shoulders, Frank began to speak. "It's okay." He promised and it sounded like a lie. Jackie took it all the same. "It's going to be alright." He quickly followed up with, this felt as though it might be less of a lie and more of an impossible but well intended vow.

And then finally a truth. "I'm going to kill him."

Around Jackie's shoulders, Frank's arms tightened a fraction. Once the words began they lowered and continued in a steady stream. A train of conscious thought that made comforts of murderous intent.

"However you like. However long you want. I'll drag it out for as many days as you want. Till there's nothing left but a bloody, useless husk that's still breathing. You want parts of him in a box? I'll cut him up myself. Tie a pretty bow around it for you. I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him. I'll-"

It was a moment of weakness but Jackie whispered. "Please." And Frank stopped speaking. "Don't go anywhere."

And he didn't.

Instead of leaving Frank settled back down, sitting on the bed with his older sister comforting her for the first time in all his life. The words stilled and for a while the two just sat in silence. Waiting for the moment that Jackie stopped crying and Frankie stopped seeing red.

That moment wouldn't come for many hours yet.

By the time Reggie came to fetch his boss, he found the two siblings still sitting together.

A quick glance at Jackie as he stood in the doorway, unwilling to enter until he got Fontaine's express approval, he could see she was asleep again. And there her little brother sat gently running his fingers through her head, threading the uneven blonde locks tenderly. Jackie would be beside herself when she saw the state of her hair - were she anyone else Reggie might have thought she'd have greater concerns upon waking up properly. But oh not his mistress - she'd take one look in the mirror and screech more likely than not.

Distantly he recalled Frank joking about having him cutting Jackie's hair and silently prayed that joke would not make a reappearance any time soon. He'd go get a hairdresser for the mistress himself, just to spare himself that heart attack.

But then again Fontaine didn't seem to be in any mood for jokes. In fact he seemed to only have one thing on his mind. Which he made crystal clear the moment he acknowledged Reggie's presence.

"You find him?" Fontaine asked, tone deceptively calm. Underneath that facade of civility there was a promise of that bullet should Reggie fail to report back positively.

How fortunate for them both Reggie was smart enough to not return empty handed. "Yeah boss. One of the boys already grabbed 'im by the time I arrived." Reggie paused looking again at the sleeping lady, the bandages on her arms and felt another swell of satisfaction in knowing what came next. "Got 'im downstairs. Didn't think it right to bring the worm anywhere near 'ere."

Nodding Fontaine had not yet looked at Reggie. His eyes remaining on his sister. For a moment there was no further conversation, just a stretching silence that Reggie dared not break. Fontaine seemed rather eager to get down there and have a little chat with their man of the hour, and yet he hadn't moved an inch. Frank was unwilling to leave his sister's side.

Then as if curiosity had struck him Fontaine asked. "Which of the boys found him?"

"Young lad, one of the smuggling ring that come over from the drop. Eddie's was the name." It felt dangerous to add what he did next. But it also seemed appropriate, a chip in the man's favour should Fontaine's frustration extend beyond Jerry. "One of your sister's crew as ah' know it."

It was impossible to guess what Fontaine's answering hum meant. Either Eddie was about to be a very fortunate man, or a very dead man. Reggie wasn't about to stick his neck out by saying anything more on the matter.

"She asked me to stay." Fontaine explained offhandedly after a beat more of silence. "Not sure how long...but."

"Boss if ya want to stay I'll keep 'im warm for you." Reggie offered gently, giving Frank an out should he need it.

Taking that proposal in for a moment Fontaine glanced between his sister and the window. Weighing his options. Then finally he began to ease up off the bed. Moving more slowly than Reggie had ever seen the boss pace himself before, deliberately keeping his movements smooth and gentle so as not to stir the sleeping lady.

"No." He decided, standing straight once he was free of the bed and only now taking the time to fix up his suit. "It'd be rude to keep our guest waiting. We'll have an...introductory visit. Back before she even has the chance to miss me."

"Introductory."

"Yes. I do imagine these next few days will be quite harrowing for- what was his name?"

"Jerry."

"Right. _Jerry_. Best we give him a brief rundown as to how the final days he has on the payroll are going to play out."

Reggie didn't say a thing against Fontaine's choice. Even if he'd for some reason disagreed or taken issue with it - his self-preservations skills would have won out and held his tongue. But as it was, Reggie wanted nothing more than to allow Fontaine this violent delight.

As Frank approached the door and his right hand man, he hesitated for just a moment. Looking back at his sleeping sister, reaching a decision. "Stay with her." He instructed. They both knew this was a safe place, no one would be able to reach miss Jackie while she was inside these four walls. But Frank told him to stay all the same. "Don't want her alone."

Reggie didn't argue. "You got it, boss." He still hoped that Frank would be back before Jackie woke up again.

 

 

...

...

 

 

The introduction went just a touch longer than expected.

Downstairs was not quite as homely as Reggie presented it. Eddie had been left in charge of the loathsome little bastard in Reggie's stead. He knew that Fontaine would be coming; something in the way Reggie had spoken made it apparent that Fontaine took this as a rather personal offence.

Eddie didn't expect a man like Fontaine to hold to many, if _any_ , moral codes. This was more likely an offence to his business sensibilities than anything else.

Jerry worked for him, Miss Jaclyn worked for him. One had battered the other. His property had been damaged.

Eddie thought Fontaine just as detestable and despicable as Jerry in a way, but for this moment the man's twisted sense of ownership worked in Eddie's favour. So the devil became the lesser of two evils when damnation was to be delivered onto a sinner.

He looked over Jerry's body. The man had been strung up expertly by Reggie before the man left. Even now Eddie studied the chains holding the bloodied man's hands far up above his head with an equal level of discomfort and satisfaction.

While he felt not so much as a pang of sympathy for Jerry, who had already lost one shiny tooth once Eddie was through with him before Reggie's arrival, he had to wonder how many other people had been strung up like this on Fontaine's command. How many of them could be like Jerry - deserving of what they got - and how many would just be poor blighters that got on Fontaine's shit list?

The answer, Eddie decided grimly, was best kept a mystery.

Jerry had just started to stir. Groaning and moaning like some beached creature gradually suffocating under the weight of its own body. Eddie watched on, not daring to lay another hand on Jerry for fear he might snap and do more damage than could be reversed. Fontaine might just waltz through those steel doors and put a bullet through Jerry's ears but that was his right and Eddie dared not put himself in the man's sights by taking that from him.

Still it was no easy task. Watching as Jerry slowly returned to the world of the living. Imagining what might have possessed him to think he could get away with what he'd done.

Eddie knew he'd stepped on his own morals. Betrayed what his family had stood for. Smuggled, made dirty money - sold his soul in some ways - but he still had lines that could not be crossed. This one just so happened to be the most offensive of that list.

Anyone. It could have been _anyone_ that Jerry laid hands on and that was a dreadful thought in of itself.

But it had been Miss Wayne.

Eddie knew she was rotten. Could tell from the moment they met. Easy to see the mirth dancing behind those smiles she flashed him. That borderline psychotic way her eyes shone on occasion - a volatile energy burned away inside of her. Like a child in possession of deadly weapon with no qualms about playing with it.

Now he wondered if it'd be different. If when he next faced his primary employer he'd not be met with that spark. Maybe when she smiled it wouldn't ignite that same visceral joy inside of her eyes. Maybe it'd be just like his old man's eyes. Maybe she'd just be…gone.

At some point in his musings Jerry had become coherent enough to babble out some slurred mutterings. Some disjointed pleas to god were mingled in his little string of 'no, no, no.'

Sympathy still failed to arise in Eddie as he watched on impassively.

And when Jerry looked at him, becoming aware of his silent observer it dawned on him exactly where he was. Jerry probably hadn't been here before - hell Eddie hadn't been here before - but the boys all knew about it. The sort of place that was passed between hushed whispers. Some gleeful in their cruel imaginings, others cautionary and rightfully unsettled by the rumor they'd all heard. They speculated that somewhere buried deep in the fisheries Fontaine had a place where people just disappeared. The devil's den.

It was akin to sometime straight out of a child's storybook designed to scare them away from undesirable behaviour. Might have worked as well as one too, kept some men in line where they may have strayed out of Fontaine's favour. Jerry hadn't been scared enough as it were.

Jerry must have known that's where he was, because he began to weep and still Eddie didn't budge an inch. "E-Ed." He whined, talking around his swollen split lip. The lisp a reminder of his missing tooth. "Please...for the love o-of- oh god, _please_."

At first Eddie said nothing. Perhaps as some sort of self punishment he tried to for just a moment put himself in Jerry's position but found that he simply could not. True there might come a day where it'd be him strung up for some slight against Fontaine, that was a very real possibility and maybe at the time he'd beg and plead for his life as well. But he'd _never_ be here for what Jerry had done.

"Save it." Eddie responded flatly. "For Fontaine or for god." Neither would feel compassion for him.

Morbidly Eddie remembered Ryan's little ideology. There was no god in Rapture. Just men who took fancy to the idea themselves.

Just as that thought passed his mind the heavy steel door between them and the rest of their underwater prison crawled open with a crack and wail. Jerry cringed; swaying in his chains while Eddie tipped his head slightly back, unsurprised when he saw Fontaine standing there.

The only real surprise was how at ease he seemed. This somehow struck Eddie as worse than if he'd been livid. He was calm, composed, and ready to take his time. "Boss." Eddie greeted cordially over the sound of Jerry's whimpers.

Fontaine looked to him, those sharp eyes nearly running Eddie through. For as calm as he appeared on the surface - Fontaine was burning under that facade. For a moment Eddie was almost amused - that stare reminded him of miss Wayne in some ways. He hoped that when he saw her next nothing would have changed in her eyes. He hoped...but did not dare hold his breath.

"Out." Fontaine instructed, the words short but by no means harsh. He was rolling up his sleeves as he walked in. "You did good, kid. But for now, get out."

Eddie did not need to be told twice. However as he moved to follow Fontaine's instructions the man's voice caught him again. "Oh. And, Eddie?" This time when Fontaine looked at him a little chill passed down Eddie's spine. It was the smile that got him. "Not a word about this."

Cautiously Eddie looked back towards Jerry, his eye bulging out of his skull as he stared at him. Begging for help that wouldn't come.

"Nothing to say."

With that turned his back on Jerry and Fontaine. He didn't look back and when the door shut behind him with a quiet click Eddie pretended he did not hear the first scream.

He needed a drink.

Eddie knew just the place. Miss Wayne had sworn by Sinclair Spirits before despite having sworn _about_ the man himself a number of times...perhaps she'd be partial to a bottle or two.

Maybe if Eddie offered it to her she'd look at him and her eyes would spark in the usual way and she'd make some snide remark about Sinclair again. Eddie imagined she'd grin and suggest a competition because a _causal_ drink would just never do. He was prepared to lose if that's what it took.

As Eddie carried himself away from the den, promising himself he'd not try to memorize the pathway there, he knew they'd never be seeing Jerry again. Just like they never saw Elias after he suddenly started crowing about some fantastical idea on how to blackmail Fontaine.

Eddie wasn't terribly concerned even when men disappeared. Because this was hell and there could really only be better places once you left this one. This was their little slice of hell and Fontaine might as well have been the devil. Eddie had no plans to draw the man's attention to him anymore than he already had.

But he'd take the risk if he could get that drink to the boss. When Jaclyn had become his boss rather than Fontaine, Eddie could not say for sure. He'd stopped pretending otherwise and now only thought of what bottle she'd like best.

The trip to Fort Frolic passed agonisingly slowly and Eddie tried not to dive too deep into his own head. But once the neon sign to Sinclair Spirits was in front of him Eddie managed to feel some relief.

That relief was quickly followed by surprise when he stepped through the doors and saw a familiar face.

Warren took notice of him right away and perked up with the usual welcoming smile. "First the bar and now a liquor store. You'd think we were both drinking ourselves into an early grave." The Australian remarked cheerily and Eddie couldn't help smiling a bit in return.

He was digging a grave alright but not with the bottle.

"I don't suppose your boss gives you a discount?" He asked dryly and Warren's little snort was a clear no. He couldn't seem to laugh without snorting; it was a ridiculously bad laugh but Eddie smile warmed all the same. "Well, join me for a while anyway?" He suggested calmly, the company...would help he was sure. "Assuming," He added guardedly, eyeing Warren with a newfound unease. "You're not on a job."

Warren merely smiled, plucking up a bottle of red wine from the shelf. Eddie doubted he'd buy it; he was more of a beer and vodka type. But when Warren handed it to him instead, Eddie startled.

Red wine did seem like an appropriate drink to bring a lady after all.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Sinclair asked me to do a little digging for him. But he's never been strict about how I go about that. So I reckon I will be joining you for a spiel, mate." Eddie had already started to feel exhausted, recognising Warren's smile.

 _Not a word,_ Fontaine had said.

 _Nothing to say,_ Eddie had answered.

Then Warren asked. "Heard you got into a biff around Eve's Garden few nights back. That bruise your reward?" And Eddie had nothing to say.

But really nothing needed to be said. Warren knew enough to be difficult, his asking was just for show and Eddie never was much of a showman. "How many people know about that?" He knew the answer but asked in the hopes that maybe he'd be proven wrong.

Warren's expression was almost apologetic. He didn't need to be sorry, Eddie understood.

He worked for Fontaine and Warren worked for Sinclair - there were just some allowances that had to be made if this friendship was to continue. As ill advised as it was.

"Just the chief and whoever you punched the snot out of." The chief huh? Well Jaclyn wasn't going to like that one bit. She had enough scathing words for Sinclair as was. Warren went on after a moment of pause that might have been uncertainty. "Don't suppose that offer of company is still on the table?" And Warren flicked his finger off his temple in some butchery of a salute. "Don't ask, don't tell – yeah?"

Eddie vaguely wondered if he'd be taking Jerry's place as soon as Fontaine was done with him.

Taking the offered bottle Eddie paused to read the label. Seemed a bit fruity for a woman like his boss. Then his gaze drifted to the second bottle in Warren's clutches. Rum. Now _that_ looked strong enough for that harpy's liking. He'd get two.

"How does Arcadia by midnight sound?"

He really needed this drink.


	16. Waiting Games

When Jackie woke up the next time, Frankie was still there.

Her brother was standing by the window, a cloth rubbing over his knuckles as he looked out over Rapture's lights. The stance of a man only barely satisfied, in need of more before he could truly be at ease. He'd often looked that way and it was only the sharper edge now that made it noteworthy, but Fontaine looked no less smug than always.

It may have been that Jackie has seen the red staining the fabric running over her brother's knuckles and opted not to say anything on the matter. However, it was more likely that the overwhelming urge to throw up had her too occupied to make any remarks.

Her gagging alerted Frank to her no longer being unconscious. Whatever he might have said to greet her once she woke up was lost in the mad rush to get her a bucket to hurl up into. At the very least he knew better than to let her throw up on the bed and years of jeering at one another when one sibling had too much of a gut full made them rather well practiced in getting a bucket on limited time.

Frank didn't disappoint, all that was missing as he slid the bucket between her knees was the mocking words that normally followed. Jackie had eaten so little that after the first burst of acidic digestion she was left dry heaving. Spitting out globs of stomach acid in a vein attempt to expel imagined content from her body.

It was almost nostalgic, Frankie standing at her back patting soothing circles against her spine as she vomited. That near nostalgia just missed the mark of being a fond reminder of days past and became a bitter reminder of how different these days were.

Normally there'd be laughter and a word about holding her liquor a little better. Today there was a hand on her back and a silence that felt more damning than she'd expected. It all felt like a punch to the gut, more so than the nausea did. Jackie hated when fundamental parts of their dynamic shifted even a tiny bit and it seemed Rapture was stripping them of all their usual constants.

She wasn't aware she was babbling out loud until Frankie shushed her. "No apologising." He chastised her in a tone that was harsher than any bed manner should allow for, but sounded so perfectly like him it became a comfort. Jackie hadn't even realised she'd been apologizing.

But she was sorry.

So stupidly sorry.

Jackie hadn't meant the things she spat at him. She'd turned on her brother in a fit of anger and now she sat there on the edge of her bed, heaving bile into a bucket and felt she deserved it.

If she'd just controlled herself instead of flying off the handle none of this would have happened. If she'd just stopped and listened to Frankie for five seconds-

She hadn't thought ahead.

When Jackie attempted to utter the words "You were right," however she only managed to heave up another pitiful dribble of acid into the bucket. That seemed about right.

Miserable and admittedly a touch delirious Jackie resigned herself to waiting the episode out. Fortunately they'd both spent their fair share of time on either end of this situation and Frankie was proficient as always. Removing the bucket and returning with an empty container and full bottle of water. Easing his sister through the process of getting her body to accept even that little bit of fluid.

After some time Jackie finally stopped convulsing every few minutes and was able to collapse back against the bed. No longer sitting on it but down on the ground with her back to the frame and shoulder pressed to her brother's as she sat there shaking.

They both knew she wasn't crying in earnest, it was just the effect of being sick for so long - but Frankie still treated her gently as though she had been weeping. It was an unnatural tenderness, but Jackie was too weak to balk at it. A blanket was pulled off the bed and wrapped around her when Jackie refused to move from where she'd sat and Frank was perfectly accommodating. Staying there through the whole thing.

Until finally, finally Jackie was coherent enough to speak without simply muttering incoherently at him. "He dead yet?" The question came in a flat murmur and for a moment Fontaine paused. Thought his answer over for a moment, considered how to say it Jackie supposed. Her brother was not in the habit of lying to her at least.

"No." He replied simply and when Jackie asked how long Fontaine smiled a shark's smile. "About three days longer, how does that sound to you?"

Jackie distantly wondered if white-toothed moron thought his little power trip was worth that. She certainly did not have the capacity for kindness towards the wretch and so when Frankie tenderly asked her how many more she'd like Jackie simply shrugged tiredly and uttered. "Ask me again in three days."

This time when Fontaine smiled it was as cruel as it was fond and Jackie thought that a far more natural expression for her little brother than concern had sat heavy on his face.

If these small brutalities helped him to feel a bit better, Jackie was happy to string the man's death out for weeks until he grew tired of the game. And if it happened to make her feel a little better along the way as well, then that was just a fortunate upshot of satisfying her brother's need for blood.

Thoughtlessly Jackie reached up and touched Frankie's cheek. One of those silent, do not acknowledge, moments of tenderness. They wouldn't talk about it out loud, but those brief moments settled deep in their memories. Relics of love that made all the spite and sharp edges mean very little.

And just as neither acknowledged those private moments of care, neither of them said a word about it when Frankie stayed with her till she fell asleep again.

Apparently he'd picked up more of her behaviors than just the callous ones.

…

…

By the time three days had passed Jackie was more herself. Enough to not only  _lack_  compassion for the man strung up in Frankie's den, but to instead muster up greater spite for the sorry soul. "Three already?" She crowed when Frank came to her with a wry smile and the same question from three days prior.

Humming as though she was truly pondering some greatly mystifying enigma Jackie turned to face her brother, some colour having returned to her face even as she worked her hair up into a bun. Unwilling to cut it but no longer able to keep it loose after Jerry's sticky fingers had become so tangled in it. The memory of the pull alone now made a weakness Jackie would not allow.

She kept her hair uncut because it was hers and she refused to allow the man that was wasting away in that chamber take anything more from her. She tied it up because she'd learnt it could be used against her and she'd not allow that either.

Finally with a snap of her fingers Jackie reached a decision that had already been made two days earlier. "Lets make a game of it." She announced and rejoiced when she saw the uncertainty flee from her brother's face, replaced with a vicious sneer. How rude of him to doubt her and think she'd cut his fun short.

"We're not children anymore, Jackie." He admonished playfully and it was the most natural thing he'd said all week. "But if it's what you want, what do you want to play, sis?"

His sister smiled. And it was the first real smile Jackie had mustered since that night. All sharp edges and not an ounce of sympathy. "Steinman is an interesting sort." She mused dryly, having no love of the lunatic but a certain admiration for the practice.

She'd laughed till her ribs ached the first time Frank claimed to have a genuine interest in the medical field – oh that little  _liar_. Didn't mean they weren't both fascinated by bits of the practice.

"How's about we test his medical expertise. Each day take a piece. See how many he needs to lose before he stops."

The answer as it turns out was two weeks. Fifteen days to be precise.

Although Jackie suspected it would have been a longer exercise had her brother's anger not gotten the best of him. She'd not hold that against him of course.

On the last day he made good on the promise he'd made weeks prior, bringing a little box to his now sturdy standing sister.

Jackie had been having a spell of bad health since the whole incident had played out but she no longer shook or needed to keep to the bed. When Frankie came to her on that last day she was standing by the same window he'd been looking out of that day she'd woken up and needed his comfort. She needed no comfort now, only the vindictive satisfaction that came with the gift he'd brought her.

The box neatly wrapped up in a bow was gifted with a smile.

It was for the sake of her still untrustworthy stomach that Jackie did not undo that bow. After all the gesture was all that mattered – she did not need to see what was inside the box to know it marked the end of Jerry's final struggle down bellow. He was freed from one monster's clutches only to be handed into the devil's charge.

But her brother had been thoughtful and so Jackie thanked him for the gift and kissed his cheek before finally banishing the white smile from her mind as best she could. The nightmares would persist, but the aches and bruises would fade and soon too would his name.

That was that. Nothing of him would remain.

…

…

She'd expected to feel better come later weeks. Maybe not entirely well again but at least no longer sick.

But the dates with the bucket persisted to the point that she could see Frank's expression becoming troubled each time she'd make the grab for the bucket that had become a permanent fixture at her bedside.

Troubled enough that finally he suggested it was high time she have another check over from a doctor.

Jackie recoiled when Tenebaum's name came up. "You keep that creepy broad away from me." She warned her brother harshly.

Irritated Frankie fixed her with a look that said she was far too old to be acting out like this. Perhaps it was her churning stomach that convinced her to throw in the towel on that argument. Maybe it was the memory of where her childishness had landed her last time.

All of those things very well could have convinced her to see the doctor. But more likely it had something to do with how bruised Frankie's knuckles were the next day. Nearly five weeks, and it still hadn't been enough for either of them.

It may have been in their best interest to play Steinman's surgery game with a touch more patience. How fortunate for the shiny toothed bastard they hadn't.

When Jackie saw the first other human being she had besides her brother and Reggie in what felt like eons she was not at all pleased.

Her face must have screamed disgust but Tenenbaum met her distaste with disinterest. "You are being sick most days, yes?" Tenenbaum asked and Jackie's glare was scathing.

"Would seem so."

Humming thoughtfully in a way that still somehow remained disinterested in its flat tenor the scientist - whom Jackie was unsure was even qualified for this beyond being Fontaine's go to gal for all things out of his education range - began to prod at her.

Fontaine told her that this woman had been called upon by Ryan in the past to check over another woman in Rapture. The clipped way in which he recounted this gave Jackie reason for pause. For once it did not seem like his hatred for Ryan had his voice tight. She decided not to ask what it was this woman had needed Tenenbaum's expertise for fear the answer would put her just on edge as her brother.

Jackie tolerated the study of her person for the most part. Didn't complain when Tenenbaum started poking around in her mouth or shone lights in her eyes. All the while she knew Frank would be waiting just outside those doors. That thought helped to keep her in line as she was inspected.

All the while she studied the German woman in return. Looking for some reason as to why her Frankie might shack up with her. Jackie had never observed the woman up close before. She was...unusual.

Dressed poorly and presented even more so – yet there was something about the way she spoke that unexpectedly captivated Jackie. Tenenbaum was a woman who belonged to her passion - Jackie found herself openly gazing at her for this. That horrendous beige sweater of hers hid an elegant body; the complete lack of attention to her hair and face obscured what were genuinely beautiful features - gifts from her parents that were not being utilized.

Tenenbaum was not like herself or Fontaine, her atrocities committed with no joy – just necessity. For science as they say. Jackie wondered idly what it must have been like to be someone with their human only turned half on. Say what you will about Fontaine – he was a whole person. Jackie was no sure could say the same for this doctor. She seemed barely a person at all.

She really was a queer sort of person.

Regardless, after a while Jackie was able to relax somewhat. Her brother's tastes might be a little skewered but...well there was a diamond somewhere under all that oddness. Jackie did not think her brother capable of unearthing it even if he cared to try and she would not try either, rather…taken with a certain blond at the moment.

A blond she still owed an apology too but hadn't the ability or spine to see currently.

"So doc, what's the verdict?" Jackie asked tiredly when it seemed she was finished jabbing at her. "Dying of the plague am I?"

"Highly unlikely." Jackie wondered if Tennenbaum understood the very concept of a joke or if that was something the Germans just did not partake in. "You are not unwell." Jackie could list a few reasons as to why that seemed even more bloody unlikely.

"Then why am I hurling my guts out each morning? I-"

Understanding hit her hard enough to knock what would have been snarky words right out of her head.

Oh. Jackie thought distantly. Oh, of course.

Tenenbaum did not need to say it but the confirmation acted as a kind of final nail in the coffin for Jackie. "You are expecting."

How unfortunate she'd given Fontaine the go ahead to finally put Jerry out of his misery. It had not been nearly long enough.


	17. Things We're Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quickie update

"Cut the damn thing out of her." Fontaine snapped at the stalwart woman across from him. Tenenbaum tolerated Fontaine's rage with little more than a slight tightening around the edges of her lips and a hardness settling in her gaze.

As ill-advised as it was to ever deny Fontaine what he desired Tenenbaum readily did just that now. It was not her area of expertise and while she found herself perfectly capable to do exactly as Fontaine demanded - she refused now.

Not out of any principle or moral boundary, but rather as a simple logical reasoning. Fontaine, for as shrewd a businessman and as ruthless a criminal as he may be, was swayed alarmingly easily by emotions. Specifically speaking, volatile and negative emotions. Greed, envy, rage, spite – these made the foundations of the man's very existence.

While Tenenbaum had never once shunned what drove the man, having found it to be an exceptionally strong motivation for Fontaine and a particularly trustworthy source of income for her projects, she did find these emotional bouts to be detrimental to the operation the man was running so precariously under Ryan's nose. In an effort to keep both her only source of income for her experiments and by extension Fontaine's business afloat, she took it upon herself to stifle his emotions in moments like this with sound logic.

All of which she delivered now without flinching or breaking from the man's wild gaze. "The mother—" She began to rationalize only for Fontaine's sentiment to drown her out.

The clatter of metal crashing to the ground would have drawn a flinch out of a lesser woman but Tenenbaum merely observed the violent display with a detached sense of mild irritation. As though she was playing witness to a child as it pitched a fit.

The small burst of energy must have done Fontaine some good because when he turned on Tenenbaum again, pointing at her accusingly, he managed words rather than another physical outburst. "Did I fucking _ask_ what the mother had to say!"

Now Tenenbaum found this to be a strange behavioural set for Fontaine to display.

Human behaviour by its very nature was a fascinating topic but one that frequently evaded her understanding on a personal level. A clinical level she could manage. Fontaine stood before her, clearly invested and seething but Tenenbaum failed to see _why_.

Fontaine was a man of extraordinarily loose morals, if he managed to hold any at all. The rape of a woman was not something he was likely to bat an eye at even if he did not commit such crimes himself. He had plenty more crimes to his name, the exclusion of one hardly made up for the others. Even the abuse of a woman whom he knew seemed like an unlikely cause for all this _sentiment_.

But he was undeniably invested.

From what Tenenbaum knew of Miss Wayne – she'd worked for Fontaine before they'd descended upon Rapture and at first, she'd paid the secretarial figure little interest. Noting her existence in their brief encounters the same way someone would a decorative potted plant or functional hat rack.

For what cause would Jaclyn Wayne hold her interest? She was neither the subject of an experiment, nor a woman of great intellect or prowess – there'd be no point conversing with or indeed even acknowledging one another. Likely the effort to even appear polite would have only served to tire both parties.

But now that Tenenbaum had in fact exchanged words with the woman, needing to do so in order to gauge her condition and on occasion having to go through her to reach Fontaine, Brigid had been surprised to find a sharp tongue and perhaps even an equally sharpened mind under that clerical role.

A spark that was neither refined, practiced nor educated but managed to burn given the slightest chance.

This, Brigid, had noted at the time was a mind very similar to her own as a child and more important to her current situation – a mind very much like that of Fontaine.

There was a great distinction to be made between education and intelligence. The unethical doctors and pseudoscientists she'd encountered in the camps were undeniably well educated but many of them could not use this education to compensate for what they lacked in intelligence. Some folding to the intelligence of an uneducated child.

Give an intelligent man little and watch him build what he can with the bones he's been gifted. Ask an educated idiot to perform an act of common sense and watch him fumble.

Truly, Tenenbaum believed in this mentality and when she observed both Fontaine and his workwoman – she found two intelligent minds that ran along the same path. Uneducated, but well sharpened with what little they had.

She wondered for the first time if perhaps Fontaine's passion came from a place of genuine kinship.

But that thought came and went from her mind with ease. No matter the cause behind Fontaine's force or the truth behind the connections between him and this woman – it mattered not to her. What many in the city would kill to know and exploit, Tenenbaum allowed it to slip away from her thoughts.

After all, for what cause would either Wayne's or Fontaine's truth hold her interest?

What _did_ hold her interest were the experiments they carried out in Fontaine's labs. The tests they ran with new plasmids. Thus, in the spirit of keeping Fontaine focused she did not relent.

"The _mother_ ," Brigid began again, stressing the word that initially caused Fontaine to fly off the handle. His anger would not change fact that new life was bubbling away inside of that woman. "Has made it clear what her wishes are. Now, should you decide to act against her decision that is a topic I have no interest in broaching. Should her answer change you may call for me to 'cut it out of her womb'. Until such a time, my hands are needed in the labs."

Let Fontaine call for Suchong or Steinman if he was really so adamant about the matter. Tenenbaum's focus was needed elsewhere, with the children that were already born and of scientific value.

She left Fontaine standing there, seething with fists shaking, but he did not attempt to stop her departure. Had she looked back Tenenbaum had little doubt she'd find her employer glaring daggers at the door she'd shut behind her once leaving the expecting mother.

Let them squabble over it and let her return to work.

…

…

The conversation started with the shrill sound of breaking glass and a flinch. Not a word.

Jackie did not look at the shattered remains of whatever bottle Fontaine had laid hands on first. Better that then someone's jaw she supposed.

Rather than face the ruins of whatever Fontaine had broken in that wordless rage, Jackie kept her gaze firmly fixed on the floor at her feet, scowling down at her hands so viciously one might have mistaken her anger for Fontaine's.

Off to the side she could hear Fontaine's labored breathing, some vain attempt to get his temper in check before he broke something else. She didn't speak, thinking bitterly to herself; go ahead and let him waste seconds away trying to remember how to use his tongue for human speech again.

When Fontaine found the ability once more he used it much like a whip.

"What the bloody fucking hell were you thinkin?" He demanded, voice raised in a shout that didn't pull a second flinch from his sister.

Instead her gaze narrowed sharply, and her head tipped slightly to the side, catching him in a sidelong stare. Registering his word and acknowledging them in this small way, but offering no answer of her own. As though Fontaine's rage was so petulant that she hadn't the time of day to tolerate or answer it.

Furious, Fontaine clenched his fists at his sides before marching over to the stoic woman, one arm flung out towards the door he'd only moments ago nearly broken the hinges on when he came storming in. "Sending away the kraut!?" He went on as though she did not recall what she herself had done.

"Walkin' out of here harping on about the mother's choice and shit. You broads suddenly thick as thieves, huh?" Fontaine never had been good at being refused something and Jackie found herself in the peculiar position of being indebted to the doctor for her steadfast attitude.

"Why the fuck are you letting that little shit stain's brat grow in your gut? Sooner you flush it the sooner his whole fucking legacy is gone. Stop stalling on it! You don't want his fucking kid so what the hell are you doing?" Fontaine demanded harshly and after so long of biting her tongue, Jackie turned on him with an anger to rival his own.

"Well it's not his fucking kid!" Jackie screamed back at her brother, up on her feet in an instant and startling Fontaine back a step. Jackie followed him, hand fisted in his shirt while the other jammed up against her brother's chest.

"It's _my_ kid!"

For the first time in what felt like years, she saw Frankie's eyes shine with genuine disbelief. He had no immediate retort or smooth rejoinder lined up. She'd truly taken the wind from his sails. And with it fueled her own furious words.

"Yeah, that's right. It's _mine_. No matter what, this kid growing in my gut? That's my kid – not his." Jackie was no mother. She was never a good enough person to care for another little life. The only person she'd cared for was her baby brother.

Sometimes she wondered if he'd have fared better in the hands of the orphanages.

Gaze dropping back to the hand she pressed to her chest. She couldn't see anything yet, but she was sure she might have been able to feel it.

There were no illusions as to who Jackie was. She was no mother. She was no good person. The kid deserved something better than her.

But there were things Jackie could provide it. She was secure financially; the child could grow without want for food. She could protect them, they'd grow without fear of the untrustworthy adults.

She could love them. They would grow up wanted.

Jackie wanted them.

"It's not his. It's mine. I'm the one who wants it."

Shaking away the moment of weakness in that thought Jackie snapped her gaze back up to her brother, a force behind her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. The shouting tapered off, but the words Jackie spoke now lost none of their heat.

"I _am_ going to have this child, Frank." She told him lowly. "And unless you want to punch me in the gut right fucking now, I don't want to hear another god damn word about it."

Fontaine's hands tightened back into fists. An ugly scowl scrawled across his face as he stared back down at his sister. The desire to do something, anything, to get his way was there. She knew him well enough to recognize that.

Cold eyes darted down towards Jackie's torso, as though he could see the parasite growing there, taking up space inside of his sister's body. An intruder he wanted ripped clean out.

For a second Jackie almost believed he would.

Then with a harsh, animalistic snarl, Frank turned away from his sister. The fist he might have fantasized about using to kill that thing that dead bastard left her with, lashing out and planting in the wall behind him. Better there than his sister.

It hurt like a bitch of course.

Fontaine was sure that something had snapped in his hand and there was a sharp sensation of skin splitting, followed by a splatter of blood left on the damaged wall when his fist dropped from it. Punching walls never had been worth the ache of it later.

Seeing this some of Jackie's anger diminished, replaced with an instinctual urge to tend to whatever injuries his brother's temper had earned him.

With Frankie's back to her, tensed up and no doubt forming new knots, Jackie began to feel some of that resentment drain. For as callous and vile as her little brother could be – she knew this came from a place of care.

Sighing gently she stepped forward, fingers delicately touching to Frank's arm. He flinched with the urge to recoil, likely weighing up the validity of jerking away from her and leaving. They'd both thought about storming out on the other, but neither had and Frank stayed right there. An unspoken defeated passing through him just as it had Jackie a moment earlier.

They'd both done enough harm to one another for a while. Fighting amongst themselves taking too much energy and admittedly after having thought he'd lost his sister once, Frankie wasn't particularly keen on putting more distance between them.

But he would never agree with her decision.

When her brother did not pull away from her, Jackie took this as permission enough. Fingers sliding down his arm till they gently took his bleeding hand. "You great big idiot." Jackie murmured, voice soft and fond albeit exasperated.

Fontaine's jaw tightened with the force of biting down all the arguments and appeals he wanted to spit out. For now he was able to swallow them down. It wasn't too late. She could always change her mind and he only needed to wait for that time.

He was living on a pray that for once Jackie would be less stubborn than himself. Best not to hold his breathe.

"I do hope you didn't try to punch the good doctor." Jackie added after a moment, fingers smoothing over his knuckles and seeking out where his skin had split. She found two obvious abrasions and so began to lead Frankie back over to the lounge. Better to get that all fixed up now before he went and got himself an infection.

"I don't make a habit of beating frail women." Fontaine remarked dryly, and Jackie took this as an unspoken truce to allow them to return to their normal routine.

She scoffed at him. "Oh sure, not a habit but a hobby, yes?" The slight upward twitch of her brother's lips was taken as a win.

"I think it would put a strain on our bedtime activities." This was the right thing to say, and Frankie managed a laugh when he saw Jackie's expression scrunch up in distaste. "She doesn't look half bad under all that… _that_." Frankie did not quite have a name for the mess of a woman Tenenbaum presented herself to be.

"Keep your escapades with the kraut to yourself." Jackie huffed, setting them both down as she again inspected Frankie's hand and found that besides what would likely be some nasty bruising, he'd be alright. It wasn't the first time she'd seen his fists banged up. Not even the first time it had been a wall to cause the damage.

They lapsed into silence. Both siblings knowing this dispute was hardly put to rest. They were both simply biding their time and acknowledging that they did not desire to fight with the other currently.

A ceasefire for now.


End file.
